He's There
by LadyBow8
Summary: A story about the dangers of roleplaying, and a secret-admirer that will do anything to capture the heart of a girl whose mind is half in fiction, even become her Phantom of the Opera. All original characters.
1. Chapter 1 1997

HE'S THERE

Chapter 1 1997

I became fascinated with the disfigured character of darkness at a very young age. Back in the day, my parents were famous galivanters, who skipped the streets of world capitols and loved the theater. That might partly be why I became an actress myself. They never wanted me to have a boring life like I do now, but had no idea they'd run out of money for said gallivanting, and before we knew it, we were living in the northwest, hurrying inside from the rain, and watching t.v. at different ends of the house. I never allowed the dreary Oregon clouds to get my mood down though. In fact, I think it inspired me even more to keep my imagination, and create when there was nothing around me.

The stage lights, back in 1997, were dimmed and ominous, reflecting mirrors and black walls rising up to the ceiling. An eight-year-old Lily (myself), was clutching to my Mom's coat-sleeve, and she had no idea what this play was or what was going on, other than that we'd supposedly been excited about it for some time now. Dancing groups, splashed in rich color paraded the stage, and a girl in all white was promptly introduced as the opera's favorite little singer. But every now and then the orchestra would strike an odd, foreshadowing note, and lights continued to grow darker. I periodically glanced up to a glimmering, gold chandelier above the audience, with little crimson and emerald sparkles, cut perfectly into its design. Then, the minute I caught a masked, plotting figure, ominously towering over the window in the darkness, watching the stage and the audience, I couldn't remember if my heart kept beating. I don't even remember the events of the plot besides those which involved that man, and the first time he entered the stage, rowing through smoke and kidnapping the woman, I was terrified and fascinated with him all at once.

I spent many days after the performance looking over my shoulder; waiting; anticipating the phantom to come back, to appear the way he did on the stage in my real life. I was frightened of him kidnapping me, but wanted his face to appear in the mirror, or my dreams, beckoning to me with a glove-clad hand. I didn't want our walk into the icy New York air to be goodbye. I refused to look forward when my mom told me to, away from the glittering lights of the playtimes above the theater. She had to tug at my arm for me to pay attention, and the car ride was silent with reminiscing.

I can only remember so well the kind of infatuation I had with the phantom after that. True, I knew little about him other than that he was hurting for being a freak of nature, of living only in people's shadows, and loving someone so angelic, who he could never have no matter how hard he tried. But I held on to that memory for a long time before things started to fade. I forgot why I'd become so entranced by the story, and as a kid, I didn't feel the need to persist if I didn't know why.

Yes, I forgot the phantom for several years. Little things would trigger my memories of it, but it was all a blurred concept. He became only the suited, masked man who conspired in walls, and underneath the floor.

Then, when I entered high school, I was reunited with him, solely by chance. The Phantom had somehow worked himself into the school curriculum, and we ended up reading Gaston Leroux's novel as our winter book project. Admittedly, I didn't much like the beginning. It was running slow, and I was wondering when the real action would begin.

Concluding the book, I had tears running down my face. I had never known who Erik really was, and in ways was ashamed that I'd treated him only as a mysterious man instead of one who needed someone to love him. I didn't like the ending- not one bit. But no matter what it was, it wasn't satisfying enough for me.

I started renting every possible rendition of the story as I could over at Hollywood Video. My mom thought it was totally bizarre. Well, ok, she didn't say so, but every time she brought a new one home, the look on her face seemed a bit perplexed with my sudden interests. By the end of winter break, I had associated myself with Lon Chaney, Claude Rains, Charles Dance, and even Julian Sands. (And let me tell you- that one was _weird._) At this point, I didn't know what version to believe. Which I could hold on to the most with confidence. None of them seemed even close to what I remembered back at broadway.

Then I discovered the infamous Andrew Lloyd Webber. Well, ok, not infamous.   
But _he_ was responsible for this stage production. And quickly after, I introduced myself to a man named Michael Crawford. He was absolutely my favorite phantom of all. His voice was soft and powerful all at once…his expressions, his sensitivity at some times, but grandeur at others. I knew there was no way I could ever see the Phantom of the Opera the way it was intended unless I was caught right in the middle of the storm. Feeling his presence linger near the curtains. Hearing the tremble in his voice, and the great rush as the chandelier descended above my head.

With this great concept dancing about my mind, I decided to start saving all my money solely for its purpose. I became so intent on traveling to New York and heading to its broadway production that I started selling little things in my room for money because nothing I was making by doing little things around the house for my parents was cutting it. Then I figured "why not sell my desk? I don't use it", and there it went, to a girl down the street for fifty bucks. Soon after the shelves, and a lot of things I used to play with that I was keeping for memory's sake started disappearing after I realized I didn't need them either. I sold almost everything. To this day, my room is extremely lonely, but I've been relying on my imagination to take care of me, as I said earlier, and it's been working out all right. The money's all in a box in the bottom of the dresser. All $430 of it. As if that's even enough.

I'm thinking of getting a job soon.

After all, I'm seventeen years old. It's the least I can do.

With that said, let's talk about how life is two years after the obsession was revived.

Things are boring here in my house. When steady jobs seemed paramount, my parents moved here from Colorado when I was in seventh grade. I spent a year wandering around by myself, lonely for a few friends I'd made in the past and wondering when we could move again. I asked that a lot, and they sort of shook their heads and told me I needed to stop thinking about it and make things as best as I could. Then, when I entered eighth grade, I met Mariam, who turned into my best and only friend, and we seemed to really get along well. She was dorky and curly-haired, and we were both crazy for theater and two of few people who still openly loved cartoons. (By 8th grade, everybody thinks they're too cool to like kid stuff anymore. It wears off when they realize nobody cares.) The only problem is, Mariam's not incredibly intent on meeting up all the time, and neither am I. She spends a lot of time on the internet when she gets home, and me, I like to just think and connect with myself. If it's nice outside or my parents don't want me to bother them anymore, I go in the backyard and toss rocks at the fence, or work on this tunnel I started in the bushes by arching the branches. My parents aren't too happy with it- they say I'm ruining all the plants, but it's not like _they _ever go outside. Besides, from the front, it looks normal. I guess it's kind of a sanctuary to me sometimes. Regular teenagers go out with friends, get their driver's licenses, and…get drunk…I don't know. But I come home and sit in the bushes, writing bad poetry in my spiral notebook. I also don't do my homework. Well, ok, I do it, but not until it's ten to midnight or the class before it's due. I have a really bad habit of procrastinating.

With that said, it was Monday morning, and I eased into my desk a bit uncomfortably that day. Mariam dared me to wear a mini skirt to school, and of course, someone like me, who'll do anything to get attention, agreed to it. I hadn't thought ahead- you know, about it maybe being freezing cold. The untouched metal chair was brutal on my thighs. I was getting a lot of unwanted stares… not because they weren't used to skirts of this length. I mean all the stupid sluts around school wore them and all, but pride told me they knew I was better than that, so it must've been a surprise. It was odd crossing boys I'd never even seen before, glancing amusedly at me… Were they hitting on me? I really don't know. I don't want to know, because none of them would be good dating material anyway. They're all little mama's boys and fake rebels. Wannabe-punks, boys who walk around in their sister's jeans, and bums with guitars. I kind of liked the whole idea of a wandering musician, but only when they were a good one. These guys fiddled around aimlessly, and it really got on my nerves when they picked a place to do it close enough to me or my classroom. So as I said, this skirt wasn't attracting anything good, and I really started to become disgusted asking myself why I owned it to begin with. I could now promise myself to hang this little number in the back of the closet and never touch it until the day Mom collects thrift store donations to put on the porch.

I don't really think it's necessary that I go into school details much with you though. I think it's safe to say the whole deal sucks, everybody's stupid, and Mariam's the only one who's got my back. And you're going to think this is silly, but I just hate being in close proximity of others. I've never been physically close with others, not even my parents, and I'd never had a boyfriend. The idea of someone being in my bubble just doesn't work out with me. One of my biggest peeves is the fact that desk rows are so close together. I absolutely hated having to squeeze in because two other people that I don't even know. I mean, you _can't_ lean back, because then you might be entering someone else's space, and I'm actually considerate. But you can't lean _forward_, because some guy's head is _right_ there. And he'll put his arms behind his neck, and lean back to stretch a million times. It really made me want to snap my pencil. Either that or stab it into his hand. To me, most men here were disgusting dandruff ridden idiots…. I tried as often as I could to pick a corner seat where the burden was at least a little bit more bearable.

Now, it all comes down to what the point is of talking to you about this whole escapade. I mean clearly you've gathered that my life is boring, and useless, and I don't do anything productive all day that might justify why I'm using up the world's resources. So here we go.

After lunch, I turned the corner and entered Drama. Mariam seemed to have shifting eyes as she sat at the corner of the couch and waited for me to join her. When she met those eyes with me, her brow flickered up and down, like something was up. When I asked her, she told me she'd found a note addressed to me in the band room. Now, I thought long and hard who might've been in the band room, and would have known me enough to leave a note in there, and I couldn't come up with anyone. I asked, and she was like… "I dunno…didn't say." and she had it stuffed in her pocket. When she dug it out, I expected it to be a folded piece of lined paper; you know, the only kind a high-schooler would have, but it was blank, and an odd texture when I felt it in my hand.

"Well…where'd you find it?" She told me it was stuffed between the cabinet door next to the files for Mrs. Vardega's drama and choir classes. Then it all kind of came together for me, because she and I liked to wander around in there a lot during lunch or if class was starting late, and sometimes sneaked into her records to see how well we were doing in Acting 3. It seemed likely to assume that it was someone else in class. So, I opened it up and was alarmed by a messy black pen which had written it. Mariam seemed equally intrigued. I scrolled across the single line, read it over several times, and was still confused. I had no idea what it was supposed to mean. "_Lily…which is better: being alone, or being together?_" Immediately, I thought to myself "It really depends on _whom_ I'm 'together' with." I rose my face from the note and surveyed the room, looking for possible suitors who could have written this note. Nobody really seemed in sync with it. I mean there was Michael, but he was more of a straightforward kind of guy. He wouldn't leave notes like this. Plus he never paid _any_ attention to me. Not even the kind where they don't talk to you but you know they're looking at you all the time for some reason. Like, Michael didn't even know I was in the class, so I shook my head a little and kept searching. Then there was Ryan and Toby, who always spent class together. Both were aspiring play-writes, who wore coats and scarves to school during the fall and didn't find anyone else in the class worthy of their presence. Then Sascha passed by, and for a minute I dismissed her, but then asked myself why it couldn't be a girl. The note wasn't leaning so strictly towards romanticism, even if it could be taken that way. No… no no no…_nobody_, at least, nobody in the room at the time seemed right. Mariam was scanning a bit as well and we simply shrugged at each other as soon as Mrs. Vardega came in, shuffling her papers and striding on high heels. She seemed in a hurry to start practice, so I put the note in my backpack and forgot about it.

In fact, I don't think I remembered I'd even received it until later that night when I was hanging around in the computer room, forcing myself to pump out a president Nixon project. You all know about my procrastinating issues, and the printer was out of paper. I would've been more inspired to find some more if I even cared about the project to begin with. I _like_ history, okay?! But now was not the time. I opened it and read it, then folded it back, made it do tricks over the table, then opened it and read it again, still trying to fathom _who_ could have written it when I had the ingenious idea of responding and leaving _my_ note in the same place. Er… shut up! Of course the note's context meant I was supposed to do that. If I want to call it an ingenious idea, I can. I took out a pen and a yellow sticky from my father's desk, and actually wrote the same thought I'd been having earlier. "Depends on who this second party is. Hm?" I folded it up and grinned like I'd been clever, then stuffed it back in my backpack. What was the use of thinking about it now, anyway? Sooner or later, whoever it was would be figured out.

Seconds later, I heard the front door open, and I knew my parents were home, both at once, as their chattering broke the house's silence. I wandered out of the computer room, still with no completed project in hand, and saw my mom scurrying around the kitchen, sliding paper-bags over the counter.

"Lilian, help me with the groceries, will you?" I shrugged and put my flats by the door on and came out to the car, curtly retrieving a bag and heading back to the front door when I stopped and smelled the October atmosphere. The dead leaves and dying summer were prominent in the air. I looked up the street at a setting sun, then down to the slick pavement where new rain had hit earlier that day. I already mentioned this, but man, did I love being outside. It sucked that winter was approaching and I wouldn't be able to hide out in the backyard anymore. I came inside and found Dad with his fingers in his hair, sitting at the counter as mom stored away the vegetables.

"What's up, Dad?"

"Long, long day." Dad was a chef. He worked from morning to evening at a restaurant called Nheka's. We've been there a few times before and I'm not quite sure if I remember liking the food. My mom says if Dad had made it, it would've been superb, and I tend to agree because the rare cooking he does at the house has always been pretty tasteful. And when I said rare, it wasn't an accident- he does so much cooking, it's the last thing from his mind when he gets home. Yeah, I'd pretty much have to say, despite having a chef in the house, we're pretty much all off on our own when it comes to meals. Cereal boxes and t.v. dinners went by pretty fast around here. He stood up and headed towards the stairs.

"Uh-, Dad-"

"I won't use up all the hot water, don't worry…" He trailed off and left, and my mom giggled at his lethargy.

"And what are _you_ laughing about, mother-dearest?"

"Your father's a martyr, Lily."

"He needs a new job."

"Maybe. Could you put all that stuff in the cupboard?"

"Sure, sure…"

And that's how most weeknights go. I spent an hour or two after that hanging around the house, trying to convince somebody that we needed a family trip to Europe. I don't think I could have persuaded them to spend hundreds of dollars unless it was to get me out of jail. Eventually, it all seemed pretty hopeless so I returned to my room and fell on my bed in a manner as if I'd been shot, with my face into the pillows, huffing to breathe through the thick fabric. Do you see now why it was totally pointless to write a story about me? I'm not good at anything, I don't fight monsters, I don't have oddly colored hair or eyes, and I'm not hooking up with a sexy Italian man I met at the train station. I'm lying in bed, in a bare room, and I suck.


	2. Chapter 2 Sing Me a Story

HE'S THERE

Chapter 2 Sing Me a Story

When I woke up later on, I expected the hall light to still be on, and for my parents to be downstairs watching t.v., but when I turned over from curling into the wall, I found that my room was drenched in blue-tinted sunlight, or what could be seen of it through the clouds and the blinds. I squinted and averted my eyes to the clock and saw that it was 6:39….I figured going to bed so early was the excuse for getting up before my alarm. Come to think of it, I don't even remember setting it. Lucky me.

I pulled my spine down and flung open the door as my feet slid on the carpet, then hurried through the daily routine. Mornings blowed. I really was not a morning person. I slapped on blue jeans and a sweater, and chugged grape soda while watching a little Spongebob in the living room. Mom would've scolded me so bad if she knew the kinds of things I had for breakfast.  
My face was the last thing I wanted to see in the mirror. I wasn't exactly ugly…I just didn't like parts of it… Like, there was just something about the shape of my nose. It was too…round…and it pointed up, like…like a ski slope or something. Bah. And I had these tiny little wrinkles on my forehead. Whenever I mentioned them to Mariam she said I was imagining things. I tried to make things better with some mascara and lip-gloss, but if it got any more complicated than that, I just gave up.

Class was incredibly lonely by the time I got to school. I guess that's what happens when you come early. :/ Well, I set my bag down, removed all the contents, and piled my books and planner in order from largest to smallest. Suddenly, the folded paper, in which I'd written a response to the mysterious note-sender, slipped out from the planner pages. I suppose I'd unknowingly moved it there to use as a bookmark… I stashed it into my jean pocket quickly. I would have casually glanced over at the clock and resumed my act of nothingness, but I jerked my head over again, seeing that we still had like twenty minutes until the bell rang. I stood up and brushed my clothes off, leisurely passing by Mr. Darelle as he sorted his file cabinet. Poor little dork.

My usual routine for days like this was mindlessly strolling the halls, making sure to avoid places where popular kids roamed, who seemed to all stop and stare at me like I was the bloody ghost of Christmas past. It wasn't because I was weird or anything, or had a bad reputation. I never did embarrassing things very often, and if I did, they were minor. Heck, I was a pretty swell kid. Er…haha, ok that right there is dorky. But really. I was average. So, I think the staring was just to be…well…stupid.

But anyway, my end of the hallway was pretty damn quiet: everyone seemed preoccupied that morning. As if to stare off, or stop and smell the flowers as you might say, could have their heads cut off. My hand ran across the railing down the deck until I reached the start of the stairs. For just a split second, I thought I saw someone worth following with my eyes so I descended to the lower levels towards the commons and looked around. As several kids entered the choir room down the hall I found myself sauntering with darting eyes towards the door. It wasn't that I really expected to find some guy (or girl) in the band room, stashing notes in the cupboard again. But the tempting idea that they _were_ there, waiting for me to find them, still hung in the air, and some kind of OCD moment in me forced a search before I could return safely to class and have a content mind for the following hour and a half. I entered the choir room, pretending to be any regular student, there for an adequate reason, and saw a group of unfamiliar faces, and three boys I didn't know, huddled together on the step of the choir rows where Mariam and I usually sat. I entered the band room with several students in front of me, which just made it all the more uncomfortable. Of course, my eyes immediately shot to the back cabinets, but there really wasn't anybody there. The only people in the class were a few early students like myself, wielding their instruments from leather cases and chatting with each other. There was also a boy in a navy button-up shirt a few rows behind them with a flute. He seemed to be the only one eying my escapades in the classroom, but I briskly passed him and looked in the cupboard. Of course, there was nothing. It was one of those 'no-brain' moments. I closed it again and turned around. The boy was _still_ eying me like I was up to something _bad_. I narrowed my eyes at him and he turned around, seeming to notice my hostility to his observation. When I thought it was safe enough, I took a few deep breaths and took out the response. I wondered if anybody else was going to find this, so I snatched a pencil from a little mug on the counter and wrote "to the mysterious note-sender" on the front, then stuck it neatly under the side of a stack of binders. I would've spent a little more time making sure everything was just dandy, but remembered that anybody at any moment could come by and be a pest, so I closed the cabinet, stood up, adjusted my hair a little and left the room. I didn't even bother to look at that guy, because he was annoying me. And being stupid, I didn't consider that he could be the note-sender until after I was back in the hall. Bleh. I just honestly didn't get this. I really tried to consider who would be writing notes to me but it just wasn't working. I didn't know a lot of people, and I blended in well with a crowd. Whatever. If that boy wanted to be a douchebag about all of this, then I would just play along. I had nothing better to do.

As I already told you, I don't really think it's paramount to discuss my business during class hours. I guess a few things I could mention was that once math started, I was doodling a man with wings coming out of his head, and he had no lower body. It sort of swerved off, and looked like a genie's. Mind you, I'm not an artist. I try. I think my people are decent, but it's not my aspiration to perfect the self-taught skills that I have. As you already know, I want to be an actress, but only the kind perhaps in a play…maybe a movie. But not a musical; not anything on Broadway. I was a horrible singer. Which was funny, because I liked to sing a lot, but people who heard me singing tended to shake their heads and gather their eye-sockets with their fingers.

Wow, I really needed a man. Seriously… Every now and then there was just a relatively attractive guy that showed up at school or out and about and it reminded me of how much I lack men. I guess I'm just extremely picky. I-I-I think too highly of myself, probably. It's like…I expect some man who is smart and funny and clever and conveniently handsome to just waltz right in and sweep me off my feet. Yeh-right. It's such a rarity that you simply can't rely on it. I mean, it would be like a big red mushroom just popping out of the front yard. And if you know how Oregon is, that just doesn't happen- the grass is green and full, and wet with rain. Ehh…see, this is how class is. I have a completely normal thought, then it blooms into me talking about mushrooms and grass as an analogy for my hopeless love life. And then the teacher goes-

"Lily, could you tell us how to solve that?" And I'm scribbling a giant circle into a blank notebook page, and I shoot up, and there's a diagram on the board. What the hell is this shit?! But it's too late. I squint at it and think maybe in a couple seconds before it gets awkward, a number's going to pop into my head that's the right answer to his question, but it never comes. Except for four. But four's too simple. He's looking for… the sin of 3.blahblahblah is negative square-root of vegetables.

"…I'm sorry. I've been focusing on something else." He gives me the usual _look_, which means 'you're never gonna go to college'. Of course, he calls someone else who answers it with flying colors, but I think actually paying attention and knowing that answer makes you a bigger loser than someone who's falling asleep with his ipod cord underneath his hoodie, like the guy next to me. I silently applauded him for figuring out early that math didn't mean shit in the real world.

Really though. Ignore me for this part of the story. What just happened is what happens nearly every day, and the last thing I want to do is pull you down to my level by making you read about it.

I told Mariam at lunch that I'd slipped my own note into the cabinets and she was completely delighted to hear it. I think that was probably the only exciting thing for us to look forward to. Well, that and Mariam getting her license. I'd had my permit for like a year without practicing much, and Mariam…well…she was a bit of a late-bloomer. Her eagerness to begin was making her mom a bit high-strung though. Anyway, we both sunk in our seats when we realized it was Tuesday; that meant no Acting 3, which was period four. And if you went to school here, you'd realize that Tuesdays are only periods 1, 2, 5, and 6. Instead of my favorite class ever, I had to head over to U.S. History. Friday was the deadline of that blasted project. We finished lunch pretty quietly, but every now and then, Mariam would suggest some new boy that it might have been who sent the note. I tried to explain to her that it might be a girl, but she insisted it was flirting. _Insisted._ And while I have an understanding that lesbians exist in our society, she was probably more reasonable in narrowing it down. I told her about the boy in the band room with the flute and she seemed to know, by some means poorly explained, that his name was James. I asked if he seemed likely to do it and she shrugged her shoulders.

Funny enough, I saw him at the end of the day while I was fighting to get outside. I hated the traffic the freshmen made. To me, it didn't seem understandable at all that it was so hard to figure out they were in the way. To them, entrances into main halls seemed like the perfect place to chit-chat in large groups, and giggle about superficial crap. "James", as he was called, turned out to be stuck as well. After a little effort, I managed to swing through two backpacks like swinging tavern doors in western movies. They both stumbled forward, and before I knew it, I couldn't see him anymore, so I just kept going. Luckily for me, home was in walking distance. I just had to keep going down the path, pass a group of pines, and head down the block to get to Sparrow Street.

Since the weather looked icky I decided not to even bother, but I did pick a purple flower growing near the walkway. So tomorrow was Wednesday…I'd have Acting after lunch…of course…I could just show up in the morning again… but who's to say that the mysterious note-sender would get to responding that soon…. I trudged up the stairs in dim black and white - we left all the lights off during the day. After a little time wandering about the house, and hiding in my closet (I had a little desk in there where I turned on the lamp and read), I found myself sprawling out on the living room floor, eating peanut-butter with chopsticks. There was nothing on tv, and I needed to head down to the library again to get more books.

Please don't laugh at me. Please. Just. Wait a second. Let's work this in daintily. I…read…romantic comedies. And romantic…horrors. Those are less common. But I like them, and I can't help it. Yes, I read other things. I have a collection mainly of teen fiction and a book of weird short stories. But I do in fact like romances. It's been driving Mariam crazy for years. My parents think it's funny, but I'm just kind of a sap. I guess that's why Phantom of the Opera made me cry. Furthermore, I generally read them because I want some kind of escape from my mundane existence. It gives me hope to hear about other teenagers and _their_ crazy adventures, if I can't have them myself. My dad told me once not to become too infatuated with them or I was bound to forget where I was, and who my parents were, and spiral down a black hole of 33 recycled paper and times new roman text.

By the time my parents got home, I was off on my way to the library, just as I'd planned.

The following day was only interesting by the time lunch was over. Mariam and I seriously ran to the choir room. Shut up. It might seem pathetic now, but I bet you'd be on your toes if someone sent you a note _too._ We headed into the band room, saw some kids drawing on the whiteboard and socializing, and Mariam decided she would race past me to the cabinets and have a look for herself. "Well? What's in there." I said.

"There's a note under these books-" I took a look. It was just my letter. Damnit.

"It's mine." She seemed a tad disappointed that our correspondence hadn't progressed, but some kind of idea lit up in her face and she grabbed the note. She read it carefully and smiled, then chuckled a little.

"Hahah! Clever…and what's this…" She mumbled. "Oh geez. You didn't write this, did you?"

"What do you mean?" I snatched it from her and scrolled with my eyes.

_And if the second party is someone who watches over you?_

At this point, I was a little creeped out. Flattered, yes, but…it reminded me of this story I heard about a kid at school who secretly took pictures of a girl he liked and taped them to the wall above his toilet. Heh, actually, maybe someone just made that up. But the point is, he reminded me of him. He also reminded me of…God, or something. It's one thing to say "watches", but to say "watches over" is suggesting that one is of some higher ranking. I focused mindlessly on the jet-black ink words.

"…Do you get this?" I asked Mariam.

"Get what?"

"Do you _get_ what the hell is going on."

"No, not really."

"…Ok so. Some…g-"

"Some guy…"

"Some guy…watches me. And he wants to know if I prefer…to be by myself or…"together" with him."

"Sounds like he's asking you out."

"….Why."

"I don't know. He likes you?" Suddenly my cheeks started to feel warm. My eyes averted back down to the letters and I grimaced a little uncomfortably.

"I-I don't think we should assume that."

"Come on, Lily, what else is it supposed to mean? That he wants to be friends? If that were true, he'd talk to you in person, not pussyfoot with notes. He's shy."

"Ok."

"And he's watching you… maybe it _was_ James."

"Noooo. I don't even KNOW him."

"So?"

"Well-"

"What does knowing have anything to do with crushes?"

"He does _not_ have a crush on me."

"Ok."

"What do you mean 'ok'? …Ugh…it's not James." I really was secretly hoping it wasn't him, even if all the directions pointed to him. I just…didn't think he was cute. And I had this idea that whoever would be sending notes to me, using eloquent language and black ink, would be some high-schooler version of Fabio.

"Well, I think class is starting soon. Are you gonna write back right now or wait?"

"No, I'll do it now."

"Ok, what're you writing?" Just then a group of conversing students entered the classroom. I knew I didn't have much time. I took the same pencil from the mug and paused the tip of the lead over a place below his writing.

"What'do I say? What'do I say?" Mariam glanced to the clock.

"I don't know. Uh…Tell him you want to meet him!"

"No! That's too forward."

"Exactly- cut to the chase."

"Ehhhh…" I danced around a bit and stared down to the paper, then scribbled "Tell me who you are first. Then we'll negotiate." I put it in the exact same place and looked around. It just _had_ to be somebody who went to class near here. Somebody who had that opportunity within twenty-four hours of me slipping my response in. But nobody seemed right enough. I had this image of the guy sending these notes to me. Well, two images, really. He was either the Fabio guy I was talking about- the suave, longhaired narrow-eyed mastermind of sorts. Or he was a chubby nerd with zits. One of the two. But neither of those types of people were in class that period, and Mariam and I scurried pretty quickly out of there. Ohh man. Why was I so excited about this? Why would I care that some person who went to our school had some sort of crush, if not, interest, in me? Well… there was no answer.

I can't really remember much that transpired for the next week or so, other than the note business (due to the fact that the notes actually held some kind of weird importance.) About a day after I asked who the mysterious note-sender was, I heard from him again, and he told me "_When you ask a question like that, you're expecting a name, but a name does little in foreshadowing what it would be like had you seen me in person," _or something to that effect.I was amused by his persistence to be confusing, but this spawned several other notes, in which we exchanged information. I asked what he was like in person, and he told me he was calm, thoughtful, and observational. I told him in return that I was shy, awkward, and I tried to say funny things so people wouldn't notice. He told me I wouldn't have to pretend like that when I was talking to him, but it all came back to him _still_ being a complete enigma without a name, or a face, or a body in which he could walk around and exist with. By the next Monday, I got a pretty…hmm…how do I describe it. He said to me, "_I'm lonely here._" I knew exactly what he meant: I felt alone at school too. Or perhaps he meant Oregon. Which again, I agreed. Oregon was a pretty boring state. But I knew that if he was telling me he was lonely, it meant he really _did_ want to meet me at some point.

I guess I should also mention that I kept an eye on James. I didn't see him so often, but every time I did, he would glance at me with his wide blue eyes and then turn the corner or head up a stairs. Me and Mariam also spotted some guy wearing a long black coat, waiting at the front of the school on Thursday morning. To me, he seemed like a more suitable candidate. But no matter where I went, I felt like some pair of eyes was zooming in from the ceiling or the floors. I became more conscious of the little things I did, trying to seem more presentable. (Like for example, I'd try not to scratch myself or stare off in space. Even though I know that sounds silly.) I spent more time trying to be early for first period so I could wander around outside, looking for anybody that seemed suspicious.

Meanwhile, I continued to read at the library, since it was actually more exciting than my house. Funny enough, when I felt the urge to put my book down, I found myself taking out my notebook and writing fake responses to him…things that I might say or ask. Like for one, what kind of social class was he? I hate to work in labels, but to an extent they _work,_ and you know it, no matter how many times you say you hate them on your myspace profile. Was he a nerd like I thought he was? Maybe he was a… literature nerd. A heavy book worm, like myself, but worse. Or…nahhh. Punks and Goths weren't very intelligent. Or emos. See, none of these seemed right- that was why I needed to _ask_. So I asked on Tuesday, and he gave me the most peculiar response. He said… "_I had a label once. Now I'm above that. So are you._" Ok so…he was a misfit-outcast. Gee, how many of _those_ were roaming the school? Hah, now I considered that it was none of the boys that I'd thought, including James. I knew what he was by now, because I'd had my share of yearbook research. He was an endearing dork who was in band and the young democrats club. There was nothing mysterious about that. Heck, I looked through the whole yearbook, scanning for faces that might put me in some kind of a trance. Then I would read the name aloud. I'd be like "The note sender is……Mmmmichael Fairborough."

It wasn't until I spotted a boy that seemed…perfect. I don't think anybody else had even come close to this guy. He had medium-length dark brown hair and either green or gray eyes, or some combination. When I first saw him, he didn't really seem to notice I was there… he was in the line for the snack-bar during passing time, but he just seemed right. He had on a white shirt and button-up vest, which was completely weird to wear during school, but he looked pretty damn good in it nonetheless. Actually, Mariam and I both agreed that he was attractive, which is strange, because we have pretty different taste. She's always liked Aryan looking boys, sometimes with dark eyes. I had a thing for darker hair, and sometimes darker skin. The guy seemed right in between our tastes, and he was slender and seemingly fit. He was a tad short…I would guess he was like 5'9" or something…but yeah, he was pretty cute.

Before I knew it, the note-sender was asking me questions that sort of made me dart my eyes around after I read them. Stuff like "are you dating anyone?" "don't you wish you could rise above all this?" They weren't even questions I knew exactly how to answer, not because they weren't simple enough questions _to_ answer, but because of the way he was asking, the bluntness of it all. I would ask questions about him and he would kind of…shrug them off.

Meanwhile, the vested guy wandered about school, innocent as always, not giving away himself at all. I found him looking at me in the school library when we were both using the computers. (I actually headed over there, solely for the purpose of being close to him, maybe to find out what he was doing.) But he didn't seem totally absorbed in my presence as I assumed I'd be able to detect.

Then something kind of awkward happened. The note-sender and I both agreed that leaving scraps of paper in school cabinets, ones anybody could find and read, put us in a rather unstable position. So…I asked him if he had an instant messenger. He said no. I asked if he had an email. He said he didn't, so I suggested the school emailing system, but he mysteriously declined. I wasn't sure what to do at that point. I just told him "get an email, it's easy" and left him my address, soon enough, while I was diddling around in the computer room, writing some kind of English response for a new book we were taking up, I checked my mail and discovered a new message in my inbox. The title said "Hello.", and the sender was "?".


	3. Chapter 3 Figure

HE'S THERE

Chapter 3 Figure

I know that you're dying to know the contents of the email. I don't blame you. I guess it couldn't hurt just to tell you what it said.

"I know what you're thinking. My only explanation for the indirect behavior is I'm unable to approach you in person. I don't have the time or nerve. Furthermore, my least intention is to scare you away, so I'm waiting until you're ready. Let me know if that sounds all right."

Waiting to hear from you."

(Am I the only one who thought the part about "being ready" was odd? Ready for what? A date? Marriage?) Well…I was ready to respond right then and there, but I decided to wait until a little later. I didn't want to send it right after, and have him receive it before he gets off, because then it'd be like… "wow, you have no life." And even though I didn't know him therefore couldn't have any opinion about him yet, I wanted to make a good impression- not to let him down if he really was someone that liked me and was contacting me to see what I was like. To pass the time, I listened to some music whilst lying out on the bathroom floor. My bathroom was a beautiful place with frogs on shower curtains and crab-shaped soap bars. It was also entirely mine, so if you were thinking it was dirty and it was disgusting that I'd be lying on the floor, it really wasn't.

After some thinking, I finally returned to the computer room and worked out what to say.

I replied, and I quote,

"Hi…Mr. Question Mark. What exactly do you want me to be ready for? I'm a little confused here, and I would think you knew that and could help me out. I mean…our conversation through these notes has been pretty exciting, it's just… Why did you start this, and what do you want out of it? I don't mean this rudely or anything. It's just…nobody has ever communicated with me in this way before. I don't really know what to think of it. Do you want to meet me somewhere after school or something?

Well…I don't know what else to say. Except you really should get aim or msn or something. It'd be a lot easier for me to ask you questions, and we could get to the bottom of this. But if not, sorry for bothering you about it.

Lily"

I felt like kind of an idiot. Where was I really supposed to go with a guy like this. Some moments he said creepy confusing things, to which I wasn't sure how to reply, others, he wasn't informative enough, and I had to dance on my toes trying to pick things up again.

I returned to my room and opened the window. It seemed to be a little too stuffy in my room despite the lack of furniture. There was a silent navy glow over my carpet when I opened the blinds, and the cold seeped through the net onto my face when I leaned forward. There was also a shit-load of crickets out there, chirping, endlessly, in the grass and the bushes, and the stretch of yards next to ours. When I sunk down to my bed I still couldn't stop thinking about what the hell was going on. Maybe this was some sort of new chapter in my life. Maybe that wish that I had for something interesting to happen was finally coming true. I don't know. Knowing my life, the guy was probably gonna get ran over by a bus before he could respond, or he _would _respond, saying that his family had decided to move to Canada and I would never hear from him again.

Skipping right along, I refreshed my inbox most of the night and hadn't gotten any replies, so I _tried _going to bed. Only to find that my mind was far too awake and excited to shut down and let me sleep. So…I wrote really bad poetry (as I said I did sometimes) about mysterious boys and confusion. My writing was so pathetic, I practically put myself to sleep just doing that.

Then the next morning I went straight to the computer again. Get this. HE RESPONDED. Damn. This guy was as crazy as I was. I liked it. Alright, it said… clears throat

"You've presented me with many understandable inquiries, but I don't feel like now is the time to answer them all. I could tell you that I want you to be ready when you finally meet me, but I don't know when that will be. But if we do meet, when the time is right, I'll explain in great length what it is that I want from you.

It pleases me greatly to hear you've enjoyed my contact. Let me know soon enough if this arrangement sounds fair."

O-hoo-hoo. This was getting far too interesting for my teenaged brain to handle all at once. I didn't have much time, but I wanted so badly to hear more and more from him, that I came up with a "filler" email, if you will, so that perhaps I could hear from him by the time I got home from school. It was nothing I need to go over, just something along the lines of "sure, sounds good", but I also asked…had we met, and whenever it was, where would it be?

I had no idea that the moment I x-ed out the window and carried on with the morning ritual that I would be suffering painful anticipation all day long. And it also left me a little bit snappy, even, as funny as it sounds. Why was it that time sped up when you were having the time of your life, and became an eternity when you weren't? Damn. I mean yes, it helped that advanced algebra wasn't in the morning, but chemistry, art, and history sucked balls. Even acting seemed to be a drag. I really wanted to tell my science teacher that nobody in the class cared today. He seemed to be immune to that zombie-like stare they all gave the minute he plugged in the projector. He would pause and glance at us, then pop open the cap to his pen. Jerk.

After tons of scribbling in various places (including my planner and the corners of papers I planned to turn in by the end of the class), staring off in space, and cracking every part of my body capable of it during each period, school was nearly over. I think the only amusing part of the day was me and Mariam's discussion about this recent involvement. When I sat down to join her, she knew almost immediately that I looked anxious. It lead into some discussion about what would happen had we really met after school at some point. We agreed it'd probably be in a remote part of the library where bookshelves surrounded us so nobody'd see what we were up to. And he'd be really hot. And when I least expected it, he'd lean forward and kiss me. Heeeeheee…. This was crazy. Ok. Nevermind. Anyway, it was fifth period, the last one of the day. History. Come on.

Come on.

COME ON!

There could've been an email sitting in my inbox right that second, and I was sitting here, tapping my feet under my desk, and staring out the window. A single orange leaf from a tree nearby detached from the branch and fluttered two stories to the ground. GAHHHHH. How dare that leaf hit the ground. It was probably dancing through the schoolyard and across the street, and into MY house, opening my email.

I turned to the clock and watched the second hand…slowly making its way to the four…then the five…six…seven…eight…nine….ten…eleven…andddddd…-we still had one minute. Everyone started crowding near the desks, just as ready to leave as I was. Mr. Gonnerman rose from his desk, telling people not to get near the door. I don't know why teachers said that, especially when nobody had anything better to do. We all kind of retracted a few inches, but didn't actually sit back down. He considered it good enough (as teachers always do, because they barely enforce rules), and just as I assumed, they all flipped their cell phones out and started text messaging. I never used my phone unless I actually had to call someone for a legitimate reason, so I found the behavior stupid, but amusing.

Finally, the bell rang. I was near to the door so I managed to get out second to first, and I speed-walked down the stairs to avoid that blasted traffic. I tried to imagine that the note-sender (now, email-sender) was somewhere nearby, struggling with similar challenges of getting out the door in one piece. I passed the doors and hurried to the right of the school for the path, and continued with utmost determination to get home. When I entered the front door, I dropped my bag on the floor, and flung my coat on one of the stair pillars. The study at the start of the second floor was just as I'd left it. I plopped onto the computer chair and swung around on it as I waited to log in, then clicked the internet and opened my mailbox.

…And there was nothing there. That little shit.

Now, at this point, I'm left with nothing to present to you. I know you don't want me to go over my day ever again, or talk about how confused I was about this. Godamn. I just couldn't believe he'd chose not to respond to me. I mean he'd had seven whole hours! Bahhh. Who was I kidding. This was completely reasonable. He'd been at school all day, and so had I. He'd probably had no more opportunity to check his mail than I did. Whatever…

Now…you'd think maybe he just needed a little time to settle in, have a snack, and do some homework (if he was normal, that was), before he got around to continuing this little exchange of ours. But maybe he had a job. Or get this: maybe he had a _life_. I couldn't assume that everything in my life applied to him, too. That if I wasn't busy, that he wasn't either. Well either way, the jerk didn't reply at all that night. So I just did some reading and tried to keep my head on straight. It's what I would've done had I _not_ been involved with some guy sending me notes and emails.

As I said, I'm skipping my days at school, so I won't mention it, but something happened afterwards that left me with an evening totally sublime. Hahahahaha! You guessed it. That bastard finally grabbed his crotch and wrote me back. I squealed and clicked on it. Then paused..

_The theater._

……Huh. Theater…theater… Heh ok. We didn't have a theater at school. We had to use the one down the street past the senior parking lot. Either way, that was not exactly a little stroll across campus. The reason I knew this was because the two plays we did in Acting each semester were done there. The ones we did last year included some adaptation appropriate for high school of Dracula, before winter break, and Annie, in April. It was a nice theater, actually. It wasn't too big, but it had a balcony and a pretty vast lobby. I remember once I got lost in it due to the crowd and couldn't find my parents who were there to pick me up. The point is…why would he want to meet there? Was he also a thespian? Because he must've been the most brilliant actor in the class to be able to stay undetected and out of my face like this.

Since it'd been a good summer and several months since I visited that theater, I suddenly had an inclination to grab a coat and go check it out. Only problem was, my mom was home at the moment, and she was particularly paranoid about me venturing outside the house in the evening. It was only about five. The sun hadn't even gone down. Whatever. I wouldn't say "the theater down the block", I'd just say school. After all, apparently to the note-sender it was _part_ of the school.

I took a sweater from my closet and headed down the stairs. I paused awkwardly by the doormat and faced my mom, who was sitting in the rocking chair, drinking tea and watching the news. "Hey."

"Mmmyes, darling?"

"I'm gonna head over to the school." She set the cup down.

"Why?"

"I just feel like going for a walk. And I can't sit around in the backyard because it's too yucky out."

"Alright… but you can't stay out when it gets dark. And bring your cellphone with you."

"Aghhh." I headed back up the stairs and took it out of my backpack sitting on the dresser, then thudded back down the stairs and opened the front door. "Kay bye."

"Bye, hun." I closed the door and felt a chilly little breeze cut through my sweater and make me shiver. I forgot that autumn nights got pretty cold. Maybe I didn't need to go after all…no, no… I could handle it. So, I wandered up the street, smelling that autumn smell- you know the one…it's kind of a mix of leaves and…barbecue. Haha! Come on- you know what I'm talking about.

I could see several kids who went to my school walking on the sidewalk a bit higher up the hill. When I reached the high school, I made a turn to the left, which lead behind the school and to the senior parking lot. For one reason or another, it seemed kind of foreign to me, but probably just because unless it was for Acting, I never took the route. Well…it wasn't horrible, but the residential areas had died down to only a few houses, the rest was parking lots, and I was approaching a dead-end. If I went any further than that I'd be heading into the forest! But pretty quickly, it became evident to me that a medium-sized building with a dark roof was situated at the end. I squinted my eyes and put my hands in my pockets and kept going.

When I reached the theater, it was just as I'd remembered it, but seemed entirely lonely, almost abandoned. I stood at the end of the pathway and stared up to the roof, then slowly scrolled my eyes down its length. There was a little window near the top, with some weird wooden design in it…nothing much else though. The doors were covered in the shadow of an arc, which continued down to the base of the front's platform. Even though there was nothing particularly strange about it, I almost questioned if I should walk up to the doors, but I checked to the side a little and surveyed another angle of the building. It was just a grassy field with a few large trees sprouting up, then multiplying the further back I looked. There was also a small set of railing and a second door. I didn't even dare imagining what was in there, so I slowly inched to the entrance, then took a few deep breaths and just walked up to the front steps like I owned the place, then turned the handles. And guess what- it was locked. Why was I not surprised? … I danced around a bit and stepped away, then found myself walking around the corner and eying the side door. I _knew_ I wasn't supposed to go in there. If people were welcomed in the theater at the moment, the doors would've been wide open, it's just…how _else_ was I getting in? And furthermore, how was the email-sender going to get in? He could've picked any day now to meet me here after school, and seeing as I was there, after school, right then… it didn't seem promising that it'd be available for us either. Maybe I just came too late… I mean the theater could've had a normal schedule, like "Open 10:00AM – 4:00PM" or something. I approached the side door. Now, hold your horses- I didn't _open _it. I didn't burst into it. And I didn't blow it up with homemade explosives. I simply walked up, and put my hands on the metal thing you push in. But it was like a bar of ice, and I immediately let go and bundled my fingers in the sleeves of my sweater.

This was stupid.

What was I even thinking… I retracted a little, but I just couldn't control myself, which was really strange. It was kind of like the theater had some mysterious aura that pulled me towards it. I thought about it long and hard… I mean, I wasn't really a rebel… for the most part. Well ok, I did things here and there, but I didn't try going into buildings that were _closed_. Then again, who even said I would be able to? How did I know that _this_ door wasn't locked just as tightly as the ones at the front? I justified my actions by deciding my excuse was just to see, and the door popped right open. I let go of it in shock and heard it slam back shut, which caused me to cover my face and go "_eeee_" really quietly. Ok…ok… let's say I just went inside. If it's closed, couldn't that mean that nobody's there? And even if someone was there, how much trouble could I seriously get into? They'd be like "what're you doing here?" and I'd just say "I'm part of the acting class at my school, which comes here" and then make up some lame task I was supposed to complete, like ask if they had a set of costumes the drama department forgot or something. Yeah. Ok, so now I was free to open the door with no worries what so ever.

And I did, and even though I was first pretty freaked out, I found myself standing at the top section of a row of seats in the dark. I thought something was glowing above my head, so I looked up and saw an emergency exit sign. Alright… Now that I was starting to get a feeling of this room, it wasn't so bad. I closed the door gingerly so it wouldn't make any noise again and stepped forward down the isle. There weren't any lights whatsoever shining in this room, but somewhere in the darkness was the glowing rims of another door. I figured I couldn't find anything in the actual theater room due to the light, or lack there of, so I held to the seats as I walked so I wouldn't trip, and became closer and closer to the splinters of light, until I was touching the wall. I felt for the handle, and slowly seeped into another room. I love how I make it sound so simple, when in reality I was doing it like maybe a killer was on the other side, waiting to slice me with a butcher knife, but it was nothing but a blank hallway. I covered my eyes from the bright fluorescent light, flickering over stained butternut floors. They rose up into plain white walls, and a low ceiling that made me feel claustrophobic. From behind me, I slowly shut the door to the theater room and took a few breaths, then darted my eyes left and right. To the right, at the end of the hall, was a stairway, and the lobby spread out from the end of the left. I could even see two doors in dimmer lighting than the hall, unmistakably the ones that were locked.

Amidst my exploration, an unrecognizable noise came about down the hall, in the lobby's direction. I couldn't have thought of anything else to do but head into the unisex bathroom nearly parallel to the theater room entrance, slipping through as quickly but silently as possible. Sure, I told myself being caught wouldn't be so bad, but I would still avoid it if I could. I covered my mouth and tried not to breath with any audibility, and my eyes dropped down to the floor. I half-mindedly studied the cream tiles, expecting to hear whoever else was in the theater. I'd only been inside for like three minutes and I already had an accelerating heartbeat.

There was a wall in front of me- the entrance did a little S turn into the actual room. I took little steps inward and tried to calm myself, but the moment I emerged from the curve in the walls, I crossed paths with a large black figure sitting over the floor. I immediately slid back behind the wall…didn't even think about what it was. I just saw a blur and automatically knew it wasn't good. I was waiting for some response from it, but heard nothing… My hand was almost trembling over my mouth, my lungs feeling its restriction, but I knew I couldn't make even a sound. Still, there was nothing, not even a little shuffle… After I felt it was safe, I turned around, just enough to peek an eye out. The black figure was most definitely a man, with his whole body covered in a drape of fabric. His spine was dropping forward, focused on whatever activities with his hands that I couldn't see. The whole situation felt like it was in slow motion…the figure just stayed completely still and leaned forward. If I listened carefully enough, I thought I might have heard hushed little breaths. Then, its arm fell, nervously sliding out a scissor blade, and a streak of deep red met the tiles. It was smeared in a deluded color over his fingers too, but I didn't pay enough attention to really evaluate it. The fingers dropped the scissor nervously, and he paused as if he knew of my presence. At that moment, I didn't care anymore if anyone heard me, and I darted out of the bathroom and through the theater and didn't look back once until I was at the end of the street. I glanced momentarily but that was the last stop I made until I was at the front of the school, and had lost my breath. I wasn't used to running; to feeling the _need _to run…and I wasn't exactly in shape. I dropped to my knees and sat on the concrete, my throat going dry and my balance losing itself.

Quite frankly, what the _fuck_ was that all about?

I was still trying to get my breath back. The calmer I became, the more I started to notice my surroundings. There were still some kids sitting out in front of the school. Perhaps they were waiting for their parents to pick them up after staying after. Yes, if you were wondering, they _were_ staring at me. Fuck them. Had they just witnessed some guy slitting his wrists, or, or whatever he was doing, like I had? Agghhh. What if he was committing suicide? No… If he was slitting his wrists, there would've been way more blood, and I doubt he'd be sitting up. Besides, he was putting the blade down, which would make it seem like he was done. Or he was hesitating? Christ… Could've just been self-injury. Still, how do I explain that? The theater's closed, only the staff would be there, if anyone, therefore… he has to be a staff member, right? And if that's so, who the fuck's been in charge??? Agghhhhh…

The little shits who were still staring at me were starting to get on my nerves, so I stood up and dusted myself off, then started walking back home. This was totally screwed up. I'd have to tell the email-sender that we should meet somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4 Fabric Hands

HE'S THERE

Chapter 4 Fabric Hands

Mom said I definitely looked shaken up by the time I got home. I told her I was just very cold. Then she bitched about me not wearing enough layers.

I realized I'd only received his email like an hour ago, but at this point, I was so freaked out that I immediately got online and told him about what had happened. I didn't go into great length, I just told him that the front doors were locked, so I don't think they'd want us meeting in there. Then I told him about the man in all black, who was bleeding. It just didn't seem safe at all to me anymore. Heck, I'd be uncomfortable when we went down there for the play next month. But I also told him that if I might make a suggestion, we could meet in the library. It'd be safer, actually _in_ the school, and there wouldn't be anyone trying to kill themselves nearby. That was about it…I was just hoping he wasn't heading over there himself the next day or something.

After that, it just rained a whole lot. I cranked the little lever around on my Point of no Return music box. My parents bought it for me when I was nine. We saw it in a special shop when we were in LA and I just insisted on having it. I figured since I was thinking about it, I'd just stay in the computer room all night, checking out a forum I hadn't been to in a couple of weeks. We liked to roleplay the story somewhat informally, if that makes any sense. You win a character through contest, or make up your own (I did that) and basically go about the forum pretending to be them. There was also an actual story-thread, where they faked a supposed "sequel" to it, where Erik comes back and tries to steal Christine again. It hasn't gotten far. Just about everyone there, except for a few annoying n00bs, are busy with school work. Strangely enough, most of them are in college. I've been lying about my age, ever since I joined it as a freshman. According to my profile, I should be twenty years old. The only person I ever told from the board about it said I was "very mature for my age", so no one was likely to figure it out.

So as I was saying, I read the recent posts and got myself updated on all that went on and what people's discussions were about, making sure to leave my two cents in each place and carry on with my character, Eva. She was another opera singer who didn't know Christine, but had somehow been contacted by the phantom as well. She appeared at the opera, having just moved to Paris, as a very happy enthused girl, but as the rpg progressed, I decided to make her mood drop for reasons I choose to leave mysterious. I actually still haven't made up those reasons, heheheh.

The girl who played Christine bothered me. When she was out and about on the site she'd be very dominant and opinionated, having some sort of "holier than thou" attitude because she had made the spot. The only place where she even sounded remotely like Christine was in the story, and she even had very eloquent writing…but she was so melodramatic about it, I wanted to gag. Apparently to her, Christine put the back of her hand on her forehead and said "woe is me". She also was really really stupid. I realize Christine's supposed to be naïve, but this was far from pushing it. The two-faced way she presented herself just plainly annoyed me. Maybe that was one of the reasons Eva didn't know her.

…………….

"So what's wrong?"

"What?"

"What's wrong?! You're quiet today and it's not like you. Especially at lunch."

"Do I always have to-"

"By now you should've been complaining about something that happened during first or second."

"Well…nothing happened today."

"…Ok."

Mariam and I were only quiet about this for so much longer until I spoke up. "Um…I think I'm gonna need to recap you."

"Ok shoot." She shoved a pringle into her mouth and continued to scroll a book she'd been reading."

"Can you put the book down?"

"I'm paying attention."

"No, really." Her eyes darted around behind her glasses and she lowered it to her lap. "Ok you know the guy sending me the email?"

"The guy that likes you?"

"Yyyeah. Ok so…we're gonna meet each other."

"Yayyy! When?!"

"Well I don't know yet. But he said he wanted to meet at the theater. You know-"

"Yeah-"

"Ok so last night I went down there to check it out, because I was thinking "ok what would it be like, what's happened since then…do people actually go there after school…like I just wanted to look around, right?'" She stared intently at me. "And I went there, and it was closed. But I just went in this door to the side because I was thinking 'what would really happen if someone caught me' and I walked through the theater and then got to this hall and I thought I heard something, so I ran into this bathroom, and then when I went in there and I thought I was all by myself but when I turned the corner I just saw this guy wearing a huge black cape, sitting on the floor, and then he dropped this bloody scissor, and then I freaked and ran."

"…"

"So…"

"Did you tell anyone about it?"

"No… I thought…I don't know. W-what if he was cutting himself or committing suicide or something?"

"That would be a pretty good reason to tell someone."

"Well, it's just…why would someone be there, doing that, is what I'm asking."

"I don't know." We turned in opposite directions and stared off in space.

"Well I don't know either."

"Hmmm…"

"I told the guy about it. I'm thinking we can just meet somewhere else. Maybe I'll hear from him today and we'll decide."

"Still, that's pretty weird."

"I know!"

"Well…if you can't do anything, you might as well not worry about it."

"What if I imagined it and I'm crazy?" Ok that comment was a little crazy in itself. Mariam chuckled while she was sipping her drink.

"Well I'll keep an eye on you, then. You know I'd throw you in an asylum if it would help, even if you hated me forever."

"Yessss. You're such a good friend." We made retarded faces and leaned into each other's shoulders.

…………….

_I'm sorry, but the theater is the only place I will meet you. Don't be afraid. If you become so, this won't work. _

This was the message I got back by the time I made it home. I-I-I really am too worn out to even explain to you all of the thoughts pouring through my head as I often did before. At this point, I really was creeped out. I just found everything he said to be more vague than it needed to be, and it felt like he was up to no good. Why would it be so damn paramount to meet there when I told him what I'd seen? Maybe it was just a guy who was pranking me. Jesus…

I deleted all the emails. At this point, I was just…bothered.

Whatever, I had better things to do. Like maybe my homework, which I'd been skipping the past few nights. It wasn't so bad in math because each assignment was two points, but I'd neglected to get my English journal entries done and was supposed to have read up to chapter two in our new book. Bahhh. I did not want to read _The Scarlet Letter_. I've heard what the upper classmen say about this. They say it's an abomination, and honestly, I don't care about some slut who's ashamed of herself.

Either way, it was the weekend.

The email-sender left me nothing for the following week. I wasn't too talkative myself, now that I suspected this was some kind of joke. I really was excited for a few days…now I just felt bummed. Maybe he knew I'd figured it out and I really wouldn't be hearing from him ever again. Either way, it was a sucky predicament.

I still hadn't figured out that boy's name, the one with the vest, but it just seemed less and less likely that it was him. Heck, I actually started looking at popular guys, but realized even if they wanted to pull a prank, I doubt they could speak the way the note-sender had, or do any part of the prank well.

Meanwhile James continued to be some guy I barely cared about. I don't even know why I'm mentioning him because I know it wasn't him.

Then came the following weekend. I invited Mariam over to see a couple movies and screw around, and when we went to the study to watch stupid ebaumsworld videos, I saw that I had an email…from the note-sender. I guessed it was about seven'o'clock that it arrived. Mariam and I both had our faces against the computer screen when I opened it. He told me it was finally time to see him…at the theater. I could feel myself cringe. "I'm not going."

"Why not?" She asked. But it seemed so obvious it was a trick. This wasn't after school, this wasn't even about school.

"Give him a chance. Maybe he has something romantic planned for you. He likes you, remember?"

"Bullshit."

"I'll go _with_ you. If it's a joke, I'll kick the guy in the nuts. If it's a creep, I'll still kick him in the nuts. Pleeeease."

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because I think this is interesting, Lily. You keep saying 'oh my life is so boring'-"

"Yeah, but I'd like to do non-boring things that won't get me either covered in eggs and toilet paper, or kidnapped."

"Ok, but I _just_ told you I would be there. Don't miss out on this, please." I thought about it for a second. Some boy from school that I didn't even know wanted me to meet him, right now. And I was passing it up, no matter what I'd seen the other night, which had nothing to do with him. And if I didn't go, I'd be up all night thinking about it. I'd be letting him down, if he was really sincere.

"…Yeah but, do you really think my parents are going to let us go out there?"

"Tell them we're heading over to the park."

"…..At night?"

"We're seventeen, damnit." I shrugged.

"Ok…I'll ask." I stood up from the computer chair, Mariam following me, and we searched for my parents. I found them reading at the dining table, but both looked up to us when we entered the doorframe. "You guys? Mine if we go to the park?" My mom lowered her glasses, and my dad continued with his book.

"Isn't it kind of late out?"

"Yeah, but it's not completely dark yet. We just wanted to go on the swings and talk, is all…"

"I guess."

"Bring your cellphone," my dad cut in. I rolled my eyes.

When Mariam and I were officially outside, walking up the street in the cold, I felt completely crazy, but some excitement was burning inside of me. I was anxious, for good and bad reasons. I just wanted to get to the bottom of this, to know who the guy was that had been talking to me. At the same time it seemed totally weird…what if he was completely what I wouldn't picture? As shallow as it sounds, that would sort of ruin it for me. I think Mariam must've been glancing at me and thinking the trance-like state was funny… We passed a street light and kept going until the left turn came before the front of the school. Then it was really starting to hit me that I would meet him tonight. I squinted and thought maybe he was standing in front of the theater, but nobody seemed to be there. I had the same increasing heartbeat, but Mariam didn't even seem phased. She kept her hands in the pockets of her big black coat and strode without variation in her speed. It made me nervous not being able to stop and just think again, even if I really had nothing to think about it. Mariam thought that kind of stuff was stupid. As long as I'd known her, she just jumped into things, didn't bother being a chicken like I was all the time. Sometimes it just really added to the discomfort when she trivialized my nervousness. There really wasn't any turning back this time.

We reached the walkway from the street. The areas beyond the start of the forest were all blanketed in darkness… I didn't think he'd be in there… As soon as Mariam reached the doors, the porch-light shined down on her. It made me jolt in surprise. She knocked, then opened it. The doors were unlocked.

I darted my eyes.

I had this undying suspicion that the black figure in the bathroom was somewhere around. I peered into the lobby with Mariam, holding to her shoulders. We couldn't see _anything_ in the room, except the glow of a lamp at a desk. She slowly walked in and I had to follow her. Our shadows grew larger by the outside's light. "Helloooooo. Is the guy who sends Lily notes in here?"

"_Mariam!!!" _I harshly whispered.

"What? You're going to be talking to him anyway."

"I don't think he's here. Why would he be at this theater, at night, in the dark? Only creeps do stuff like that."

"Maybe he's a creep."

There were two stairways to the sides of the desk, presumably leading to the balconies of the auditorium. Mariam wandered closer to them, but unexpectedly, she surveyed the room again, then came past the desk and flicked on a light-switch, flooding the room so brightly, my eyes stung. I felt a pang in my forehead as I got used to it, then looked around. It was still just a vast lobby with a few folded chairs at the other corner. There was also a piece of paper taped to the front door, the one we hadn't used. Instinctively, I walked towards it and stared, and read the most peculiar text.

"_The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a spectral shade."_

…Ok. Mariam came up behind me and scanned the message herself. It was printed, impersonally on the paper with black text, no other writing to be found; nothing. Perhaps this had always been there. This was a theater after all, and the Phantom of the Opera was a stage production. I crossed my arms and looked back down the hall. "Mariam…I don't think anyone's here. He lied to us. It's a prank, just like I thought it would be." Mariam shrugged.  
"I guess so." I couldn't stop staring down the hall. The same mysterious staircase was near the end, and the door to the unisex bathroom sat innocently, like nothing had ever happened.

We seemed to catch on to each other's thoughts and came to its door, then slowly walked inside, holding to each other's arms, but when we got there, the bathroom was entirely quiet and undisturbed, and there were no blood stains on the floor.  
"Freaky." She randomly commented. I nodded as I eyed myself in the mirror.  
"Let's just get out of here." I said. It all made my stomach feel unsettled.  
"I don't understand why some guy would tell you he wanted to meet you and just…not be here."  
"It was a _prank_…remember?" I rushed out of the bathroom. Fuck this. One instance in my life where I felt something meaningful was going to happen and it was all fake. The moment I saw the doors, I noticed that they were both shut. I ran to them without much thought and grabbed the handles but found that they wouldn't open. It scared the shit out of me. Mariam sauntered back, wondering why I hadn't left yet and seemed confused that I was just standing there. "It's locked." Before she could respond I headed over to the theater room entrance, hurrying through the dark for the side door. If this wasn't open I was officially going to panic, and Mariam seemed equally troubled. We came to it a little out of breath, but when she reached the outside, a note fell from the top of the door, fluttering behind me to the inside. She stood there in confusion as I bent down to retrieve it when the door slammed shut, divided us both, and I froze, my eyes growing in the pitch-black. I suddenly regretted ever coming here, ever putting myself in danger. I hadn't a clue who this guy was, hadn't thought that seven at night was the wrong time to come to some place not attached to the school. I felt like an idiot and prey to whoever was in the room with me when a warm fabric hand touched my shoulder and slid down my arm. It grabbed my hand and helped me upwards, then guided me somewhere along the wall. For a while I didn't think it would be right to make any sound…whoever it was, holding my hand and backing up to the corner was so quiet. I don't even remember thinking anything about Mariam who'd been locked outside. Some distant part of my mind could hear her knocking on the door and calling for me but when some type of warmth grew closer, I stopped thinking or knowing…all together. "Are you the one sending me notes…" I asked to the darkness. The hand slid below my grasp and I found myself holding to its arms. Smooth but cold fabric arms…but my fingers couldn't explain this all to me.  
"I didn't ask for a party. I asked for you to come to me, alone." It whispered. _He_ whispered. The one sending me notes.  
"Who are you?" As soon as I'd said it, the hands seemed to disappear, and I could no longer feel their touch, making my arms tingle. When my fingers wandered over his arms I knew where he was. Now he could've been anywhere. I stood there a long while, never asking another question, but the room was entirely devoid of his presence. I stepped backwards, feeling along the walls until a light above the porch shined into my face as I seeped through the door. But Mariam wasn't there anymore. I descended the steps almost like I was walking on air, then turned into the walkway, and there she was, with hair whipped over her face by the wind.  
"What happened?!"  
"I don't know."  
"Well-"  
"I met him."  
"Well what did he look like?"  
"I-"  
"Was it that guy we were talking about, or anyone we know?"  
"I don't know."  
"How could you not know?"  
"It was in the dark. I just felt him." Mariam's eyes widened.  
"Come on, let's go back before someone realizes we're gone." She said. I nodded, agreeing that they might get worried, but found myself holding to Mariam's arm and slowly smiling on the way back. "What happened between you? Did he say anything?"  
"He said he wanted me to come alone."  
"God, this guy really likes you."  
"Huh?!" Oh, great. Now I really was smiling. Barely anything happened though. He just… touched my arms, wearing a pair of gloves. That was probably as close to a boy that I'd ever gotten though, so it was exciting for _me_. Somehow I felt instantly romanced by him. Oh God, I sound like such an idiot.  
"Yeah…he likes you. So what does he sound like?"  
"He does _not_ like me! We don't even know who it is!"  
"Sure he doesn't, now really, what'd he sound like?"  
"A guy."  
"Yeahhhhh…"  
"I don't remember. I was too caught up in the moment to take intimate mental notes about his voice. Next time I'll bring a tape recorder."  
"So there's going to _be_ a next time? When?"  
"When I explain to him that you came because it was too late and I wasn't brave enough to stop by all by myself. And that I believe in him now."  
"So you're actually gonna show up alone and talk to him." The cold in the air started to go up my spine. I started laughing to myself when I realized I _was_.   
"Yes. Now let's go back to my house."  
"Alright."

We came back to my house and split a can of soda. As I poured the glasses, I could tell she was just…standing there, not really sure what to say. Then we just awkwardly hanged around the kitchen, sipping and looking around. "So that was pretty weird."  
"Yep."  
"So…what do we do now?"  
"I dunno. Maybe you should go home now." She looked out the kitchen window.  
"Probably. It's pretty dark out."  
"My mom will get nervous for you."  
"Hah! I know." She came to the sink and put her glass in it. I mirrored her and then we headed towards the foot of the stairs where she put her shows on again. I could tell part of her didn't want to leave, and another part wanted to milk out every detail she possibly could, but I felt like it probably just was time. I was weird like this- but I just wanted to be able to sit around and think in depth about what had happened to me. I'm sure you do it sometimes too. I opened the door for her and she stepped out on to the porch and eyed me one more time. "Well, see ya on Monday."  
"Byeeee." As soon as she turned toward our walkway, I slowly closed the door and headed upstairs.

…………….

My clothes, smelling like night, sat in a pile on the floor as I stepped into the shower. Playing onto that whole "horror movie" mood, I felt a little strange and uncomfortable standing vulnerable under the water. Perhaps because I had met him in darkness, I expected him to walk out of any shadow. This wasn't an average guy that had contacted me. Something was too eloquent, too graceful about it all. It was something Mariam didn't get, either. To her, the whole concept of the notes, and meeting in the dark, was just a flat one. She hadn't experienced it herself or felt the hand on her. I was growing more and more excited about seeing him again. But why hadn't he told me who he was when I asked? He was some kind of secret admirer.

By midnight I was laying face first into my bed wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. Thinking about this. No, thinking wasn't a good word: I was dwelling on it. I was wondering all of these things at the same moment- my whole brain, a hurricane of thought. Things whizzed by and then while trying to grasp them, another thing came out and smacked me in the face. Could he have been an underclassman? Or a senior? Tall or short? He felt tall to me. The arms that I held were at a much higher level than my own.

Then of course, there was the obvious question: what was he doing in the dark at the theater? Was it his hang-out place? Did him and his friends go there, so he was familiar with it already? How was he able to lock and unlock the front doors? It was so strange thinking right as I laid there in the darkness of my blank room without a single light, this guy was thinking, breathing, evaluating himself after meeting me: Lily, the girl he knew would find his notes in the band room. And most importantly, he was waiting for my return…


	5. Chapter 5 Anticipate

HE'S THERE

Chapter 5 Anticipate

_I assure you, the last thing I am is fake. Monday, after your school, and I'll tell you everything._

----- Original Message -----  
From: Lily Terrasi  
To?  
Sent: Saturday, October 14th 11:23 PM

Mr. Question Mark,

I'm sorry about tonight's incident. If this makes any sense to you, I'm generally discouraged to leave the house by myself in the evening, and I found your request to be kind of peculiar. My friend didn't just volunteer to go, I refused to go without her. I had the idea that I'd be pranked, or that you weren't real or wouldn't meet me there. Now that I know that you were waiting for me, I'd be happy to return. But it really has to be closer to school hours. If you'd like to meet right after school, we could both meet up there. Then we can just talk and you can tell me what you need me for. Again, sorry. Next time you don't need to be that mysterious though. Really, I'm the last person on the planet you need to be nervous about. Ok, well, hope to hear from you.

Lily

After _your_ school. Ok.

Well, it was Sunday. I woke up surprisingly early, about nine or so, and had some inspiration to be proper and "do the right thing".

I made eggs and toast for me and my parents and watched some television in the living room with them for a while. Admittedly, my dad was a little worried seeing me work the stove, because I was a horrible cook and usually resorted to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or take-out. A bit into the television-watching, we were inspired to talk about politics and other fun things, due to a few news announcements about changes in the war.

Somehow I let my mom convince me to do my homework early, and actually found myself reading The Scarlet Letter. Bleck. I would make goals throughout it though, like read ten pages, then take a break. Read another ten, and take another break, until the reading was done. Since it was fresh in my mind, I answered a few questions we were supposed to do in our journals. True, most of it was the proud student method of bullshitting, to make the entries look long enough, but usually the teacher didn't read it all in depth anyway.

By three in the afternoon I'd completely ran out of options for what to do. I'd done all my homework, posted in my live journal, so Mariam and some internet friends that seemed to care could get their jollies reading about what I had been up to… I didn't mention much about the note-sender though. I wanted to keep it my little secret for the time being. However, I did mention that had I gone missing for some reason, they could find me at the theater. Who knows what could've gone down with a guy as mysterious as that? Not that I expected him to be up to no good but I mean…wouldn't anyone take that precaution?

…………….

When Monday finally came, I had some sort of nervousness at the bottom of my stomach. It actually made me feel a little nauseas, but I had some pop and listened to my ipod to calm myself down and by the time I was walking to school, I felt the same as any other day. I glanced down the street to the theater and saw it sitting there, even if it was barely visible, then persisted to the front steps. When I looked over to the "drop-off" area, I saw a red Volkswagen pull jerkily next to the curb, and Mariam opened the door and stood up proudly. Then her mom came out, eying the ground like she would never see it again and shakily worked around the front of the car to return to the driver's seat. Mariam flung her bag over her shoulder and waved to her, then seemed to notice me standing there and ran up to me. "Your poor mother." I said.  
"What's that supposed to mean?!"  
"You suck at driving."  
"Well you don't seem to be doing much better." I watched the car once more as we entered the building.  
"At least I know that and choose not to send my parents on a roller-coaster."

She laughed at me sarcastically and turned to the left for her first period, and I came to mine. I found Mr. Darelle sorting through his file cabinet and somehow realized, just by seeing him and taking it as some kind of symbolism, that this was going to be a very long period. And day. I took it upon myself to become reacquainted with all of the notes the note-sender gave me, thinking strange things, like how the hands that touched me also wrote in that ink. You'll come to find that I make connections like that a lot, so if it bothers you now, decide whether you want it to bother you later.

_Bored…bored…bored…bored. Notebook, you are so lucky to be an inanimate object. You don't have the conscience to understand what you and I are going through right now. I'd switch places with you, but then I wouldn't understand anything. I can't afford to be retarded. Don't take it personally though; I don't think any other notebook could do any better. On the bright side, you come in as quite a handy pale for me to spill out my thoughts. There you go. That is why you are important in this world. You're great at listening. Not everybody can do that, either. _

_I hope that one day I can find somebody just as interested as I am in acting. We could act together and win millions and billions of dollars traveling around the world and gracing audiences with our performances. I understand that this may not ever happen, but I'm going to try anyway, because that's what the world is about these days. You gotta get out and try to do something or else you'll sit at home all day eating pretzels and wishing you did. I hope I'm not bothering you with all of these advisory statements…I realize it won't do you any good, but I think one day when I read this journal again, I'll see that statement and listen to myself. Mr. Darelle doesn't seem happy this morning; I feel bad for making it worse, but then again, did he feel bad when he took you away from me in front of everybody for no reason? That's right, he didn't. So neither do I._

We did a lab in science…it was lame. I paired up with this girl who sits at the end of my row, who also has no friends in the class, and we very quietly read over the instructions and wore ugly-ass goggles, and poured this and lit on fire that. What more is there to say?

Perhaps art was the only class that was remotely relaxing. Mrs. Yue didn't really care what people did, as long as it was "art". There was a kid in my class who liked to paint on these canvases he brought in from home. His dream was to be a serious artist, but every time I saw his paintings of still-life fruit etc, my only reaction was to stifle laughter. There were a few people there that actually had talent and worked on perspective and realism, using nothing but mechanical pencils, but at least half the class was just experimental like myself, and doodled various things that caught their interest. There was also a group of otaku nerds who wore Hot Topic cat ears to school and drew rip-offs of the anime style. To me, they mainly just looked like kindergarten scribbles with googly eyes, but when they presented their work to the class, I just kept my mouth shut and flicked a smile up every now and then when they said something intended to be smile-worthy.

And if you're wondering what I draw… usually fantasy-type people, with wings horns, fins, or multiple appendages. Or abstract stuff, like roses surrounded in pinecones, with a checkered background, surrounded in someone's skull, and then…kittens.

I looked around Acting class again and there really just wasn't any vibes in there. I still considered that he was hiding, but I knew that I just had half the school day left until I found out. If it was someone in the class, I wondered if we'd be hanging out afterwards or something. Well, whatever. That's pretty much all I have to say for this class.

And I have nothing to say for history. Nothing.  
And in English, we discussed the symbolism of the different colored robes seen at the beginning of the Scarlet Letter. It was the most pointless discussion we had ever had. I think everyone in the class wanted to shoot a tranquilizer into the teacher's jugular vein so she would shut up about it. And I frankly, had no problem rushing out the door really really quickly as she was asking us to slow down and listen to some reminders about a quiz next week. The bell rang, ok?! I had a note-sender to get to. And I was NOT getting caught up in hallway traffic or door traffic, or any traffic.

I scurried home and immediately came to the bathroom to wash my face and reapply my make-up. I also really needed to brush my hair. The wind likes to screw it up a lot.

I was prepared within ten minutes or so, and walking up the street. I wondered if he was going to forget or something. But then…no way. He sounded too official in his emails, like he wasn't some teenaged boy with nothing to do. Nevermind…I don't know what I'm talking about.

It was kind of weird walking the theater's street in broad daylight. Usually parts of it were hidden by shadows or hidden all together except for streetlights. I considered that the front doors were open and tried them but they didn't seem to work, so I headed around the back, and took a deep breath. I was about to meet the note-sender. Was he going to hold my hand again? What would happen? What would he say he wanted me for? And how I was going to react? I started thinking of all the possibilities and what their answers would be, but realized I was only doing it stall myself. I could already feel my heart racing again…Godamnit, I hated it, because then I just paid attention to it and felt sick again. I put my hand on the cold metal and felt my fingers tingle, then slipped through the door. I wasn't greeted with complete darkness.


	6. Chapter 6 Let's Play

HE'S THERE  
Chapter 6 Let's Play

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The laptop did not have a hard drive problem! I got it just yesterday and everything is as it was. So, out of excitement, I decided to post this a couple days before Sunday, since it's been late 2 weeks anyway. Enjoy? I'm so self conscious about this chapter. I feel like I did something wrong even though I tried to make their words and their reactions work for the motives and not seem so fake, or stupid, or… bleh.)

………………….

The auditorium I entered was nothing like it was the time before. The pitch-black I remembered was lit with a line of bright white Christmas lights, falling down the curtains of the stage, dimly exposing the curves of the balcony and the endless rows of deep-red seats. The radiance finally made the room come alive, but I could feel some familiar presence, like a concentration of energy was staring me point-blank in the eyes. Unlike previously, I was filled with a strange anxiety. Here I was, just standing here after scanning the room for the note-sender, but he was nowhere, yet I felt he was, like the concentration was darting left and right, escaping my eye. My eyes slowly rose to face the balcony, and almost tipping forward was an unmistakable shadow. I paused and considered if I should ask if it was him, but who else could it have been? Something initially covering him slid down past a ghost face; silver, milky in color, glowing by the Christmas lights but completely still and free of emotion. "Hello." He greeted me flatly. His whisper was that of the creep I sometimes imagined in the note-sender. The short lifeless gesture, offering no explanation. It had to be him.

"Hello…" My voice seemed to be flowing towards him from my mouth, if that makes any sense at all. The white alien face still didn't blink or change.  
"Did our exchange scare you?"  
"…The notes? No." I crossed my arms and stepped down the isle a little further to be closer to him, but he still looked like a floating face. "But they were pretty amusing."  
"Hmph." His mouth slightly smirked, as far as I could tell. I took a few deep breaths and wet my lips.  
"So…-"  
"How old are you now?"  
"Seventeen, junior."  
"Young."  
"Am I? …What year are you?" He paused a long while.  
"It's not really important." I awkwardly recollected my thoughts.  
"…Why's that?"  
"Do you know why I brought you here?"  
"No."  
"Do you have any guesses?"  
"What is this, The Price is Right? No." He laughed mildly and leaned forward.

He was perched over the railing, his arms bent in awkward angles to hold his balance, and as his face dipped in my direction, long locks of dark hair fell across the front of the balcony. All of these black streaks and limbs gave him the appearance of a spider. I was afraid maybe he'd fall, but he kept a very sturdy position and grip. I stepped forward just a few more times, and I realized the reason the note-sender's face didn't fluctuate was because he was wearing a mask, which covered his eyes and nose and went all the way up his forehead. It really confused me, but I immediately thought of only one thing, which I knew was silly and irrelevant. Before I could suggest it, he spoke again.

"I remember a kid who was in love with this story, and wanted to be a part of it, but failed. She was a freshman. Had so many people laugh at her for her persistence."  
"Huh."  
"She thought she was the only one in the world that cared like that…then she let herself subdue the interest and take it comically."  
"Who and what are you talking about?" The grandeur he first emanated seemed to shrink away. He backed up, a little further into a shadow that left me blind of him.

"You." The coincidences seemed to be piling up, but I was still completely dumbfounded.

"…So then who are you?"

"I'd like to be someone you'll never find in anyone else unless you're extremely lucky."  
"And who would that be?" For the first time in this whole conversation, he looked like he'd completely forgot what he was doing. He just stood there and…thought, or something. It was a horrible time to start acting this way because I really wanted to know what he wanted. "…Second thoughts?" I asked. He didn't seem phased by it though. "Who do you want to be?"  
"Your phantom." I abruptly straightened my posture to the sudden comment.  
"What." He refused to speak to me after that. I think he probably realized he'd given me a thick pill to swallow. I strolled over to sit in a nearby seat and found a smile growing on my face again when I started thinking about the hands on my arms. For some reason it all seemed so obvious. The notes, the mannerisms, the sign on the theater door, the mask… I guess I just didn't expect it because it was a pretty damn inexpectable thing. I looked up to him, and found him standing. "So…what…You want me to be Christine? How?"  
"We'll make a story. A play nobody watches."

"…You want to role-play. In person." He didn't say anything to that. I suppose I was being a bit redundant in asking. "…Why with me?"  
"I think you have potential for your role. But you hide it."  
"Ok, but how do you know? How do you know that I've been obsessed with this?"  
"I can't tell you that."  
"Are you going to tell me anything about yourself or are you just gonna continue being a creep?"  
"I can't." I crossed my arms at that. "If you want to get a feel of me, then interact with me in the game."  
"But I don't know you."  
"Do you need to?" The question made me instantly intrigued. I asked it to myself and couldn't find an answer. Well, ok…I did have answers in mind, but they were all contradictory.  
"…I don't know." I stupidly replied.  
"Then let's play." He touched the railing and lent his hand out to me, and the strangest feeling surfaced and destroyed all my skepticism. In the most humble reasoning, I knew I was a smart girl, but at that moment I lost everything.  
"Alright." I stood up again and we just stared at each other. I was trying to understand that I'd just agreed to…in a sense, act out my favorite story in the world with a complete stranger… And the hardest thing to grasp was how this would happen. "What do we do now?" I asked, a little amused again. I felt somewhat bad that I was acting like a smart-ass earlier. He took a step back on the balcony.

"You have to give up asking who I am."  
"Ok."  
"…You have to abandon all your questions; all your preconceptions. You haven't been living this way, for seventeen years. You've lived them as Christine."  
"Easier said than done." I said to the mask.  
"When I see you next, you'll be Christine." He insisted. Just when I thought it couldn't get any more mysterious, he slipped a hand into his coat and pulled out a letter, then let it flutter to the carpet below. Being pretty familiar with typical phantom behavior, I took it as my cue to retrieve it, but when I bent down, collected it in my hands, and looked back up to him, he'd backed even further up the balcony where I could barely even see him.  
"…Are these instructions?"  
"No."  
"…-"  
"It's just a message."  
"Al…right."

"Don't expect conversation like this again." I nodded and glanced back down to the blank top of the envelope for a moment, but after a short shuffle on the balcony, I realized the faint glow of his mask in the dark was missing. I really had no idea what to think at this point, but he'd pretty much left and our meeting was over, so I very blankly headed back up the isle, glanced once to the place where he had been standing, and then I was out the door, the afternoon sun killing my eyes. The pavement I was walking on to return home seemed far too solid beneath my steps, everything seemed in a haze, like I'd met nobody at all and was returning from school like any other day, but the absence of my backpack's weight over my shoulder was proof that it wasn't the case. I don't even think I could piece it all together, even by the time I was standing in the kitchen, staring ahead and drinking a cup of orange juice. I mean, I was relaying all the information he had given me, all the simple things that had happened in those twenty minutes or so that we were in that room together, but none of it clicked.

So the note-sender…was a guy…that has known me…er…known of me… since I was a freshman. And he knew about my obsession. And he had a mutual obsession. And he felt the need to ask me…to be obsessed with it…with him. Together. As real people… as the Phantom and Christine…two years later. To stop asking questions…to willingly jump into this as strangers with lives outside of it, brought together only by one purpose. Holy fuck. Was I supposed to say this was my dream come true or applaud him for his absolute bluntness on the matter? How could he just say "you don't know me, but I want to pretend to be your phantom of the opera in some play-house scenario" or whatever it is? And he just came out of NOWHERE and sent notes to me and lured me into a theater a street away from my school, where I never go unless I have to. But he managed to be persistent enough to do that, and I played into it and I said yes…and…it was like Christmas! This couldn't be real. Was this a joke? God, you are one sick fuck. I'm…I-I-I… you're gonna have to come back to me later. I need a cold shower. Please, just come back later.


	7. Chapter 7 Dolled Up

HE'S THERE

HE'S THERE

Chapter 7 Dolled Up

So it's been a couple hours since you last heard from me, and I've had a chance to calm down. True, I was incredibly giddy and confused. Between you and I, I jumped around in my room and tried to keep my excitement to myself. I wasn't quite ready yet to tell Mariam, because I was trying to think of some genuinely…concise…logical way to explain what happened.  
So I needed a little time to come up with a summary.  
So far it was that…I met the note sender, and he wanted to role-play with me. And we would simply see where it went next time, when I came as Christine. Surprisingly enough, I didn't open the letter yet. I didn't want to over process myself.

For some reason I tagged along with my mom to the grocery store. She was actually going to do some cooking that night, and I came with her to simply…escape the house. Escape my thoughts. Try to remember that note-sender or not, life went on.

As soon as we entered the store, we passed a rainbow of Halloween costumes and cackling robotic figures. My eyes halted on a Dracula vest and slacks, hanging on a rail of "6 and under" clothing. It just automatically made me think of the Phantom, and I started to chuckle at the idea of him coming here for a costume for this role-play! Yeah-right. And I certainly wasn't finding any long, white, dresses, here! Like they could fit a 17-year-old girl. Not that I wanted to find a Christine costume at Fred Meyer.

Then it dawned on me that Halloween was just in two weeks. I could construct a Christine costume for the yearly party and never have to reveal what I was using it for besides the event. Sweet. No explaining to do with Mariam. She was a very engaged actress just as myself, but she'd think I'd went completely bananas if she knew what lengths I was going to satisfy this "game" with a guy who wouldn't even tell us who he was.

Hehe…it was kind of cute…

He was this…dark…mysterious guy… Honestly, there was a pinch of fear in me that I wouldn't have admitted when I met him. But anyway, he was this dark mysterious guy…and he seemed…intelligent, creative, entertaining…

But he was shy as hell. It was just…adorable!

And to think he was shy around _me_… I guess Mariam's idea that he liked me wasn't so absurd. Maybe he did. Why else would he remember anything about me for two years, after spotting me as some loser freshman? Eeee…

I lingered down some aisle with school supplies and smiled to myself, deciding to stop by some neato eraser thingies and fumble with the package a bit. I had a guy who picked me, and me in particular, to act out the Phantom of the Opera with him because he…might have liked me. God, it just felt weird to say it aloud. It sounded crazy, and dorky, and…

"Lily, come on," Mom shouted. I put the erasers back and followed her.

All I could really do was tag behind her as she passed the vegetables, bagged a few things here and there, and headed to the check out. I wondered if "the phantom", as I could call him now, was gonna eat dinner soon. Hahah, I know it's a funny thought, but he was a human being after all. I wondered if he had been thinking of me just as obsessively. Then I convinced myself I'd had enough time to register what we were doing, and I was _reading that letter_ as soon as we got home, and let me tell you, that wait was endless.

Mom brushed a wave of her hair behind her ear and adjusted her scarf, then eyed the candy shelf as we inched towards the cashier. It was extremely tempting, but we made it through in one piece, without having bought anything unnecessary, and curried outside where it was pouring rain. We ran recklessly to the car and threw everything in the backseat, then turned the heat up and hurried out of there.

We passed the school on the way back. I instinctively looked out the window down the road, but it was gone quicker than it came to my attention, and a second later, we were pulling into the garage. I opened the door and heard the hard patter of rain as I walked mindlessly to the door. That note was just waiting for me to- "Lily…the bag?" I swerved in her direction, stared a moment, and went back to snatch it from my side of the car.

When we were inside, I set it on the counter and walked off, not much thinking of anything else, and ran upstairs.

The note was sitting innocently on my dresser. I imagined it fluttering to the ground from his shadow, again. The weird side of me decided I should set the mood, so I took it into the closet, closed the door tight, turned on the lamp, and leaned into the corner. My unfolding was slow, just to make myself suffer, then the full letter was just sitting there. I had nothing left to do but read from the top.

_Christine,_

_You and I are similar in that we both suppress what we really want, because nobody will give it to us. I don't know you well. And you don't know me at all. But I think we're connected in a very strong way for what we suppress. _

I stopped and smiled. _"Go on."_

I can only be who you want me to be if you open up to me. If you trust me, even without knowing me. If you reserve all questions you have about my life away from this game. I'll do the same myself. I'll trust you, without knowing you. I won't pry into your other world. We'll learn about each other all in good time.

Lastly, I have no intention of making this public domain. I want you and I to be alone...

OO

If it's out of your comfort zone, then this might not be for you, but I've spent so much time…thinking about you…I feel positive that it is. Until then… do what you feel is right. You have the instinctive ability to be this role and I have the instinctive ability to be mine. Because deep down, we **are** them.

_I'd like you to meet me on Friday, October 20th, at 6'o'clock PM. _

_You never thought you could live this way, but you can. I'll make it happen._

-O.G.

I reread the letter five or so times until I'd soaked in his message well enough. I had four days to find a dress. That was all I really needed to focus on.

I was Christine now.  
I was Christine.  
I was Christine. Christine Daae.

………………………

"What're you doing, Lily?"

"Huhhh?! Agh. Will you stop leaning over me?!" Defensively, I curled up in a ball in my desk, holding closely, like it were my own vulnerable child, to a yellow-papered notebook with writing and scribbles, and _scribbled-through writing_.

"What is it?"

"It's _nothing_ that you would be interested in."

"Oh, is that so? I wouldn't be interested? Interested in what?" Mariam swung around and slid into the desk in front of me. I sent her an offensive glance, and then concentrated on the curves of my letters from within the paper she couldn't read.

"I'm just writing about the ph- …note-sender." I told her informatively. She chuckled half-heartedly, then completely froze and glared at me.

"You never called me about that."  
"Guess not…sorry." I could tell she was staring at me as I focused on my notebook. I glanced at her once, then took out a red pen and started outlining things.

"….Well?"  
"He was a very nice guy."

"Well what did he want from you?!"  
"He wanted…to meet me on Friday, to hang out. That's all."

"Ok…" I took out the long letter from that night, glancing over it admirably, when she snatched it from my hands, and I couldn't very well hold on to save it from her eyes or it would have been torn in two. I rose from the chair and stared at her wide-eyed. "Mariam." I spoke wryly. Her eyes continued to scroll across the first paragraph. "Mariam!" This caused me to lean forward.

"Did he give this to you? Holy wow."

"GIVE IT BACK!" I swung my arm out, but she retracted hers.

"_-_But I think we're connected in a very strong way for what we suppress I can only be who you want me to be if you open up to me." She read aloud quickly. "If you trust me, even without knowing me. If you reserve all questions you-"  
"Mariam, STOP IT!" I couldn't believe she was reading my own personal message. She turned up to my face turning pink with discontent. "Do you know how completely creepy this sounds? He wants to be aloooone with you!" At that, I caught her off guard and saved the letter from her prying little fingers.

"It is _not_ creepy. You don't even know what it's about."  
"Ok. Fine. If you don't mind it… But really… what was he like." I sat back down, returning the sacred letter into the notebook, then I took a few deep breaths.

"Interesting." I realized this didn't really answer the question. "He was tall and kind of lanky, and he was wearing a suit. He kinda reminded me of … of a vampire, er I mean…well his hair was _this_ long." I shot my hand up to my mid-chest. Mariam started to look more and more disgusted, but she let me continue. "He didn't even really seem like somebody that could exist, like the way he looked, and the way he talked, almost like everything he said was scripted. It was…weird. But I didn't ever feel like I was in danger. Oh, and just to get this out of the way, he looks nothing like anybody we know of."

"That's…I don't even know any word that would explain it." A laugh escaped under my breath.  
"If you think _that's _weird…" A smile sifted through my lips.  
"What?"

"Well." My lips continued to curl as I averted to the window. "He had a mask."

"Hahah, yeah, cuz he doesn't want you to know who he is since he liiiikes you."

"Maybe." He bit my lip and stacked the notes into an orderly little pile.

"Oh God."

"What."  
"First he's note-boy and now you have a crush on him? Already?!" The words jumped from left to right in my head.

"What the fuck! When did I say that?!"

"You don't need to."

"Oh come on- don't give me that crap, Mariam. I have crushes on people I know."

"Who're you trying to fool, me or you?" I paused and stared at her with fake anger.

"YOU! You are way out of line!"

"Hey, I'm not the one with the "note-sender's" letters all over my desk." I shot down to my tabletop. "What? Doing a little reminiscing?" I gathered them all up in my arms and fell forward in an attempt to hide them. "**Infatuation**: stage one."

"Noooo! All this means is that…I-iii-it doesn't ALL have to do with that, okay? It's a much broader subject-" Just then Mariam started bellowing hysterically, throwing her head back and covering her face with her hand. "You are a jerk! And I'll tell you something else-" She came back forward. "If you're gonna accuse me of having crushes on stupid note-sender guys that I just met, then I'm just going to stop telling you about all of this. Okay?! I'm not _that_ desperate! If I really thought I liked him, I would have no problem admitting it to you! Obviously, I don't, I'm just seeing where this is going- maybe we'll become friends. I don't know! But I'm handling it like any amused person would if it happened to them. If it was a _girl_, I'd be acting the same about this."

"Alright, alright. Geez. Calm down. I won't laugh at you anymore." We spent a few moments in silence after the agreement. "I still think he's extremely weird. The least you could do is admit it instead of be ambiguous and defensive." I would've argued against that but then it'd just look like I cared what she thought. After no response, she stood up and walked towards the door. Just when I thought she was gone, she very conspicuously crept up to my side.

"I want to be alone with you, Lily…" Mariam whispered with a nasal voice. She struck her fingers up in ominous crippled poses, and flashed the whites of her eyes, then sprinted out into the hall.

This was not a creepy letter. He was merely embracing his role. And I loved his language. It was like mine, but better.

….I guess after a little thinking, I realized I had to eventually just tell her what was up. The suit, the mask, the notes, the language…It was all a pretty creepy thing out of context. Ughh…I guess I just…kind of wished that all her knowledge of the Phantom and how he started off with me would be erased, so I wouldn't have to explain what happened with him from then on.

I wanted it to be my secret.

Besides, she kept bringing all the "normal" in and trampling over my enthusiasm.

………………..

The dress was still nonexistent by Wednesday. I was starting to worry if I wouldn't be able to make it by the due date. Mom agreed to take me over to Good Will for "Halloween", but it was hit or miss at a store like that. Mariam suggested I go to the Mrs. Vardega's storage and ask if I could borrow one of the dresses, so we headed over there during lunch and tried to find something good.

And with a poorly written children's book's convenience, there was actually a dress there that I particularly liked and ended up fitting me well, besides the length, which went out another three inches past my feet and seemed like it'd trip me if I walked too fast. It was rose-tinted, with a tight strapless body and two strips of fabric that draped around my shoulders from the center. One jewel in the middle, no sparkles, but I kind of liked the simplicity.

After I completed my goal of finding the dress, I had to wait until the end of Acting when Mrs. Vardega was free and ask about it. She sort of just nodded. (We have like…ancient costumes. They're not that special.)

Actually, my dress didn't smell so great either. I had mom put it in the wash, and then came up with the clever idea of sewing the ends inside of themselves so it wasn't so long. I wasn't a very patient sewer, might I add. I had like inch-length gaps between stitches. But when all was said and done, it didn't look so bad…

When nobody was upstairs, I ran into the bathroom with it and posed in the mirror, then looked through my jewelry stash for something suiting, like a jeweled necklace or a gold chain.

Nothing even remotely good.

I had a fascination for brightly colored hair accessories and plastic pendants. All of which were neon orange, lime green, or blueberry colored. (It was the least I could do since I had such a dull wardrobe.)

So there I was, bothering Mom again. She let me take a glance at her own jewelry and I found a very Christine-ly necklace with bronze-ish chains and a few "diamond" appendages.

The only thing I really needed now was a pair of SHOES. And I had NONE! Purple tennis shoes, black flats (which would never match), dark blue converse… So despite my sudden relief for not having to go anywhere to get my costume done, we headed over to Good Will anyway, and there was absolutely nothing there. I looked left and right, even went down the aisle a few times. There were a few light colored dress shoes that caught my attention, but most were many sizes too big or small. It did give me a few ideas though- I decided I'd be looking for white dress shoes, with or without heels, hopefully slip-ons, and _no pointy toes._ I don't care what anybody says- they're ugly.

So with that idea in mind, I had to beg Mom and get down on my knees for her to take me elsewhere. We had several other thrift stores around and had only killed twenty minutes or so, so she agreed, but she seems to always have a problem with the dust in the stores. "This stuff has been sitting in people's garages," she said. True. Maybe I was just immune to it, but damn, she was swiping her nose left and right. I felt a little bad, but this had to be done.

Value Village was also completely devoid of nice shoes. All we saw were giant-sized Keds, and worn 80's high heels.

I was becoming extremely discouraged at this point. I didn't want to have to wear the black flats. She took me to one last place and I somehow managed to find a pair of white dress shoes that were my size (7) and not too ugly. They were mary-janes with square heels and fabric bows, and when I tried them on, I felt like I was wearing something that just wasn't me. Then I remembered this wasn't even about me… so I forked out 5.95 and then I had shoes. The costume was then complete, and tomorrow I'd be wearing it for the Phantom.

I spent the whole night wearing the outfit, finding positions that flattered me best, and trying to get into character. I lit my whole room with candles, and sat on the floor, trying to think of things that Christine might say. The only problem was that I didn't even know what the situation would be. What was his plan? Was he going to act out the already established story, or was this some alternate dimension? Was it the beginning stages as the Angel of Music, the seduction, or would we already be in the "lair", if there was a lair. And what then? To me, I found so many dead ends. How could we have a satisfying fake-reality with only that small little theater with dusty chairs and no life what so ever? The Opera House was a vast work of art, flooding with guests, ballerinas, stage directors, dancers, the opera singers themselves, M. Firmin, M. Andre… Elaborate live performances, secret corridors, and the room of Christine Daae with her entrance through the walls to Erik's domain. So many aspects of this world that affect our roles were absent.

Then I had this strange idea that I really should just trust "Erik".

He must've known what he was doing, right?


	8. Chapter 8 Conversing with a Reflection

Author's note: I was overwhelmed with the lovely reviews I received last week when I posted chapter seven. I have a lot of trouble getting feedback, surprisingly- I write a lot of things posted on this site and outside of it that I tend to feel I'm writing for myself- don't get me wrong! I love writing for myself! But sometimes I don't know whether or not I'm getting any better, or fixing my mistakes. And it's rewarding in a completely different and amazing way when someone else is as into it as I am. I finished this chapter last night and thought I would post it early as thanks for your feedback. It really is inspiring for me. :3 Well, tata Please enjoy it, and I will try again for chapter nine, next weekend.

HE'S THERE

Chapter 8 Conversing with a Reflection

When I was fourteen years old, I remember walking the halls at school and having people flicker their eyes at me with amusement. I'd put a ring on every finger, and drape silver beads around my neck like a flapper… I had a fascination for the color lavender, and purple is my favorite color to this day. I refused to wear anything that wasn't a pastel, because I thought they made me look pretty. Most of these things I've grown out of since then, but I have a few silk and polyester shirts and skirts in the bottom drawer that make comfy pajamas during the summer.

I remember auditions for the first play, just as a 'little freshman'. It was for the Shorts V program. I had been warned that despite experience in middle school, nobody ever took youngsters like me seriously, but I was determined to prove that I was just as good as the sophomores and juniors and I stepped out from the curtain anyway. I had tights and white ballet flats. I thought I would definitely impress. I didn't forget a single line in the excerpt.

They didn't let me in.

Mariam and I were both kind of a couple of saps at the time, so I shed a few tears at lunch and she comforted me outside. Her support was great; her advice was even better. 'Go see Shorts V!' She said. Take notes on the upperclassmen and find out what they have that you don't. Some day I was going to be them. The people who grew up to be the best didn't have a superiority complex and fished for those weaknesses to make them better. The strengths were just a plus.

I had most pleasure in reading the Phantom stage production. My obsession in script form was the only way to make me motivated at first. I remember Mariam and I hanging in the same green area as those kids that were staring at me the night I 'escaped' the theater. She'd lean up against the trunk of the giant tree and laugh at me as I sprawled out in the grass, flipped the tips of my shoes up at the sky, and screamed for Erik to kidnap me again. We thought it was funny the looks passersby gave us.

I think some incredibly troubled part of my 14-year-old self really wanted to find herself kidnapped. The detail I tend to skip when I relive my fandom's origin is that I was infatuated with Erik as a lover, and not just a pitiable entity. I seemed to forget entirely that he was a fifty-year-old man, or that he would never take me seriously. I just wanted to be in a suited man's arms. To be whisked away at night and brought back in the morning so I could tell all those people what double life I lived…. Even though now I realize they would just laugh at me even more.

Argento's world seemed to be the most creepy and unsettling in my eyes- the images of the opera and the catacombs always stuck: the woman's footprints, the blood smeared on the rocks; the disemboweled pedophile in the maze of steps and doors, where the girl stared the Phantom in the eye and ran to safety by his merciful permission. I saw him perched on the roof with some icy wind from his heart blowing his hair. He shriveled into the curves of his cape and fell through the floor, with an unloved body, so seemingly unflawed despite what they said. I was interested in its unraveling; to be that body's lover, no matter who he really was. I wanted him to forget how repulsive he ever thought he was or how many people had ever been cruel to him and lose himself in the love some little girl could offer. It was…just embarrassing when I look back on it now. But I guess that's the reason why this new guy in his suit makes me feel already as though I'm a slave.

That he would ever know that kind of infatuation I had for Erik was remarkably eerie.

Perhaps he'd been someone similar to me, but had that obsession for Christine, and as a male, he felt he had a connection with Erik's character. I imagined him to feel alienated, angry, and hopeless. I just couldn't put a finger on anybody in that time that fit the person that might bloom into what he is now. Could he have possibly been someone that passed my rehearsals in the grass?

As the Little Freshman, I made it into the following play in early May.

It was the first time I shined that the dedication to really become my roles sunk in. I was allowed into Acting 1 as a sophomore…and striking again for the next production, Dracula, my fascination with morbidity continued.

The Phantom of the Opera, I realized, had never been done at our school. And by God, if I couldn't make that money for Broadway, I was going to bring Broadway there. I got so excited, thinking about peers that had ridiculed my antics, sitting in the bleachers and watching me as the lead role…

When I tried asking the committee into letting it pass, all members of the drama club, including the instructors, Mrs. Vardega, and Mr. Loune, the choir teacher who'd be needed for the music, said it was too ambitious a project. I remember I got my mom to call them and ask if they could start a sort of fund for all people interested to donate so that anything beyond a normal high school production could be afforded. I put fliers on the bulletin boards of the porches. Despite actually earning the role of Christine being a whole other problem, I had it in my head that I was steps away from that ideal play.

It just never happened. My English and history teacher both agreed it was a great idea, and many supported it in the end, even if they didn't know I was initially behind it, but the drama staff just didn't have the heart to do something so large, and that was that.

It really pissed me off.

Despite fantasizing about being the role, I didn't know how he saw Christine in me. I had never seen it in myself. She was extremely talented, and beautiful. Maybe I wanted so badly to be in her place because I knew nobody would ever see me as that sort of… "damsel in distress", who deserved a man at her side that wanted always to love and protect her.

The dust-covered curling iron had been underneath the brush drawer for years now, and I never used it. It was not me. I was Lily and I had straight hair. I was dreading the kind of reaction Mom was gonna give me… Nevertheless, it was in my hair a second later… and when I eventually let it slip from the top, a warm little spiral went down my shoulder. I really was excited; I just didn't know how to express it! I was quiet with my hands, contemplative in the mirror… this dress was starting to feel a little tight, which made no sense…I hadn't been eating all day… I managed a bowl of cereal that morning, but I skipped lunch – I just wasn't inspired at all to put stuff in my mouth, so I watched Mariam the whole time and tried to talk about 'funny' stuff to stay preoccupied… When I got home, it never crossed my mind because I immediately set everything up that I would need – the dress, the shoes, the curling iron, the jewelry…When Dad got home, I slipped out the door and had a walk… When it was finally time, some kind of ache was rolling around to different parts of my stomach. I knew it was nervousness, and there was nothing to cure it.

I told them there was dress rehearsal for a little skit in Acting and walked out the door. I wore a coat over the dress and strangely didn't quite feel like Lily anymore. Here I was, a young girl, walking up the street in formal wear and earrings, clutching to the coat and breathing cold breath into the air. Sure where she was going, unsure what she would get herself into.

The front door was open. I seeped in, and wandered through the back door into a black room, emanating some occult lustfulness with a single gold candle at the tip of the stage. Gliding down the isle in the dress, approaching something seemingly beautiful with uncertainty, I felt like the butterfly of this spider's trap. I suspected he was watching me, as always. What could he have been feeling right now to be someone he admired and emulated for this long… it was crazy to think I might be resurrecting by former self by agreeing to this. I realized then more than ever, despite the lame jokes and snappiness I demonstrated earlier, that this _was_ my dream and I had been hiding it. It was my revenge on the school system for never letting me be Christine, back in the peak of my longing for it. My jokes were due to bitterness.

I looked and walked as an artificial opera singer like Asia Argento. I tried to pretend that I had never sent these emails; that I had been summoned here by some unnamed force. Curiosity followed naiveté. The gold candle, flickering a wild dance up the curtains, revealed the glimmer of a vanity mirror. It was so damn weird. I instinctively held my dress up, ascended the steps, and stood in front of it to see some shadow of my figure; Christine's it seemed, staring at herself like Bloody Mary. The room was warm, and the color of the flame lined my shadow and made obvious the straying hairs of my curls. His whispers poisoned the atmosphere when my knees hit the wood. I surveyed the audience for that alien face but it was nowhere.

"Flattering…" He said. I couldn't think of any way to respond.

Little by little, tiny lights spread out over the red seats. The curve of the balcony became a lake's reflection of twinkling city lights. I barely felt at all like I was confined to this room. The less dim it became, the more I saw the sparkle of my necklace and the jewel at the front of the dress. When my face was clear enough in the mirror, I pronounced an "I'm here."

"You trusted me after all."

"It was a lot to think about. Your motives…"

"I thought I made them very clear." I paused and regretted mentioning it.  
"The surface ones." It did not feel like Christine, and I could tell it provoked him. By now, I knew I had to explain myself. "Erik had a motive within his own story- he was in love. I just get the feeling it's beyond the roleplay. You said I have potential to be Christine, but-"

"Are my motives really so important?"

"_Yes_. You say that we should stay out of each other's personal lives, but you apparently know how I work, and what I want out of this… and I think it's only fair that I know how _you_ work and what _you_ want, before we continue."

"I understand. What I want is…" I waited for the answer. "I knew you would ask these questions." He redirected. "I've known it for months now. You don't settle for what you see... I hoped you would contemplate in vein with Mariam and come back to me with a poker face until things started evolving." When he pronounced my friend's name so casually, I felt a shiver up my back. "But this hasn't worked for you…" I felt bad that I had just spoiled the introductory moment, but persisted.

"It hasn't. I can do this, but I need to understand your decisions."

"I'll have to explain it out of character, then."

"Please."

All lights in the theater room seized a second later. I sat completely still, thinking that in this same complete darkness as the night we tried to meet him, he would materialize behind me and touch me with the fabric hands again. "Erik wanted to capture the…embodiment of good in a world he hated, for himself. We know this because he's not real." The voice switched locations. It was now further off to the left. "If there's one thing I hate about make-believe, it's the dramatic irony. We're not here just to act; we're here because this is our escape from that dramatic irony. What I want…" he started again, "is for the line between what we're roleplaying and what's really going on to be hard to determine. Skin deep, until we decide together to slowly puncture. The carnage is the prize. To me, that sounds like a much more exciting experience." I heard the words ring about from different parts of the room; at first I suspected the area by the doors to the hallway, but then it traveled across the seats, down the isle, right to the tip of the stage. "See, even though you ask these questions, your imaginative, escapist side eclipses your practicality when it comes to something like this. You trusted me, as a complete stranger, because you _wanted_ to, not because I'd convinced you enough. That's why you and I are so _so_ similar…" His voice faded as he said it, but despite the weak syllables, he was speaking for me all the things I knew were true in the end but would never be able to describe. "You're right: it's way beyond the motives of the story. But that's far past skin-deep, and you're as privy to that information as Christine is."

"I can only know as much as Christine does. I have to let you reveal everything on your own, to make the story as real as it can be."

"Exact." The voice uttered just above me. I scrunched my shoulders together.

"And you know everything because you're the Phantom." It made sense. He was the omnipresent observer. I was thinking of this on the real playing field, not realizing how much he wanted us to be disconnected. But inside the Phantom of the Opera, this was exactly how it should've been. "You're a very clever guy, you know that?" I said to the figure behind me.

"Observational. Clever, I'd have to dissent."

"You don't have to be modest. You know, I think it's really amazing that you could carry this out. I would never think of it, and I still have no clue how you're going to do it, which just makes me want to stick around even more." I paused a long time, hoping he might respond graciously, but as usual, he picked and chose when to reveal his thoughts. "Just promise me that eventually I'll know who you are."

"I promise." He responded a bit dryly. He'd moved further away. I supposed I'd said too much as myself. I lowered my face and waited for him to become Erik again- I had a feeling he was itching to get out of his own skin. "Am I free to do what I see fit, now?" I slightly wanted to laugh, but resisted.

"Yes. It's totally up to you."

"Good."

There was a rustle of fabric. "Let's talk now," he suggested. That was an excellent idea. We'd been going over this same crap about how the roleplay would work since day one, because I was too stupid to let it go. I thought of something worth asking as both myself and Christine, and went for it.  
"So you've been watching me." His silence seemed to agree. "When?"  
"Often."

"In my own home?"  
"…I know where you live." ….

"Do you watch me inside my home?"

"No." I finally felt just a little bit of relief.

"Have I ever done something embarrassing?" Funny enough, I could hear suppressed laughter in his exhale. It was very soft though.

"No, at least nothing that wasn't endearing…to me."

"And what do your observations say about me?"

"The only time I ever see you alive is when you're performing."

"Yeah… it's hard not to be."

"You have all this bottled up expression, and when I see it in action, it's thrilling… Are you resisting the urge to run off and never come back?" He asked this and I felt perplexed. "It's like you have all these spontaneous desires. Of course, you never do anything about it, because your true character would appear _out_ of character."

"I'm not really as interesting as you might think-"  
"You fascinate me." I recollected my thoughts.

"So this started two years ago…Were you involved with any of the plays?"

"No."

"Good, because I sucked in them." He suppressed laughter again.

"Not as great as you are now, but 'sucking' is a bit too harsh."

"You're too nice to me. Seriously, I don't see why you would ever decide to watch someone so pointless as myself."

There was a pause as the lake of city lights glowed behind my reflection in the mirror again. The conversation after that was my try at the complex, artistic lifestyle as an opera singer. It was…the strangest thing in the world, talking about the various elements of the opera house as if I really lived there, in Paris, France. It was awkward to translate, and I think he noticed that I was twisting around Meg's character to fit Mariam. He seemed most intrigued with our relations, because he knew she was aware of him, and wanted to know what she thought.

I hadn't a clue how else I was supposed to talk to him. I wanted to ask him regular questions people had when they first met, like his hobbies, heck, his favorite colors, movies, books… But it didn't seem right with the context. When I eventually got up the nerve to ask what he did for fun, he said he liked several genres of music and did a lot of writing. When I asked if I might read some of it, he declined, at least for the time being. He called his writing too raw for some to swallow, and that he had been considered troubled by someone he knew, only because they stumbled upon it and didn't understand… for once some little part of him slipped and I wanted to know more, but he changed the subject.

At a certain point in time, I smiled to myself and averted my eyes to my lap. "How long am I going to be talking to a mirror?" I asked, to the note-sender; the one who finally had enough courage to contact who he kept thinking about.

"Until I decide it's time to pull you inside of it." He replied.

The room that I had observed when I first came reflected a different character by then. I had the instinct to stand up, just to enjoy the stage; to love the fact that boring old Lily was wearing a dress from the drama department, and wandering the wood panels, her every move being admired. She became conscious of all the little movements of her fingers and her hair. Considered that even a mistake would be accepted by this stranger.

I wondered if Mariam and me could put our heads together- to try to remember _somebody_…but knowing how he worked, I really just couldn't imagine figuring him out so easily. He was…beyond us. I decided he must've been a senior. I had to keep searching for him, even though he seemed to look like nobody I'd ever seen. The black long hair… maybe it was a wig, to further hide his identity.

Had I ever heard his voice, even? No. It was eerily calm, as if he were some higher entity in disguise, modest to his undeniable superiority. Damn, he was good at this. I was a puzzle-solver, the harder the better. But where did I start here?

"It's seven thirty. You'd best be leaving now. That 'rehearsal' is probably assumed to be ending."

"Hm." I half-heartedly said to him, still with my previous thoughts.

"If I were you, I'd come up with a stronger, reusable excuse for your absence in the future."

"…Thanks, I'll try."

"Let's meet like this every few days, just let me know ahead of time."

"…Tomorrow?"

"You really enjoy this so much?"

"What can I say? _You_ fascinate _me_."

"I-I'll see you then." I smiled and wandered over to get my coat, then walked to the side door.

"7:30, you said?" He didn't respond. "Yes, I suppose it's about time. Goodbye, Erik." I waited for him to return the farewell, but considered he had left. Interesting, I thought. An interesting meeting that I didn't want to end, but it had.

The sky was a very rich navy color, but I couldn't find any stars. I passed a streetlight and saw my breath again. I could feel the real world setting back in; the hairspray in my fake curls met my nose; my fingers were pink from the cold. Lily was annoyed by the weather, but it seemed this time to be entirely insignificant, compared to the larger picture. Before, there had never been a larger picture.

When my first step in the thriftstore heels met the rug in the doorway, I could smell some rich flavor emanating from the kitchen, and converse in a different room. I closed the door and leaned into it in reminiscence like I'd had my first kiss. "We're in the dining room, Lily!" I heard my mom shout. I broke out of myself with an amused exhale and wandered in to greet them. They both sat at opposite ends of the table, looking chipper as ever with bowls of stew. It was a very picturesque way to end an unusual day. "How was it?"

"Fun." She nodded as if she wanted to know more. "Oh! Uh, we had leftovers from last night. I made sure to save enough for you." I stepped back into the island a bit.

"Alright…well…I'm just gonna go change."

"Ok."

I removed the dress and put on pajama pants and a t-shirt, then came back down to microwave dinner, which I was dying to get to at this point. For some reason, I was happy enough to sit with them, and curious about their activity since I'd been gone. I think they could tell I didn't have the same things on my mind. Ah well. My little secret, I thought.


	9. Chapter 9 Obvious Attraction

HE'S THERE

Chapter 9 Obvious Attraction

I stared mindlessly into the toaster oven, waiting for my waffles to ping. I had to put my, now wavy, hair in a ponytail because one of the shorter layers was shriveling up into my face… I needed to hop in the shower after breakfast and redo my hair. Ayayay…I was seeing the note-se- … the Phantom, again. Why did I feel so blank about it. I figured I was in shock.

"Lil," my dad said at the opposite counter.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't you think it's about time to get a job soon?"

"Yeah… I've been thinking about it."

"But no acting-"

"_No_…it's hard to look around when I don't have a car."

"Well, maybe it's time to get a car, too." The toaster binged. I snatched the waffles and slid them out onto my plate before they burnt my fingers and vigorously applied the butter.

"_Yesss_…I know what I have to do, I'm just not very motivated."

"How's Mariam doing with that?" See, this was typical parent conversation that pissed me off.

"She doesn't have her license yet, either."

"Yes, but she practices-"

"Your point being-"

"My point being: we haven't practiced in ages. Wanna go out today?" I closed the cap of the syrup, stuck it back in the cupboard and stood in the doorway with my plate.

"Sorry Dad. I have plans." With that, I walked off to the computer room.

Well, I felt obliged to send Mariam an email that morning, while I still had time. She _had_ been annoying, obnoxious, and a bit too prying on the subject, but when I really thought about it, it was reasonable, and if she had been up to something like this, I would've felt left out and a little outraged that she couldn't talk to me about it. I was going to let her in on it as decently as possible. We had met, and decided, for fun, that we would pretend to be characters of the Phantom of the Opera, as long as he was going to keep his identity secret. I would leave out any details worthy of creepiness, seeing as she already had her feelings about him, and make it look like a harmless get together.

After that was sent and done, I checked the clock, 10:43, and headed to the bathroom. I don't think you'd really be interested in what went on in there. It's safe to say I came out clean and dry.

When I got to my room, I heard unmistakable patter, thrusted open my blinds, and found it to be raining profusely. "_Awwww shit_" ran through my mind, but seeing as it was only noon, there was a chance it would clear up before three, the time I'd decided to visit him.

I took out all the notes once again from the pile of books sitting on my desk and read them word for word, just to feel connected with him through the black ink. So…he was a writer. Not surprising at all to me; he talked like a freakin' scholar. Raw writing…raw writing…hmm… What did you expect out of a teenaged male?

Some eloquent teenaged male and me were roleplaying together. Wasn't I…telling you not long ago how unreasonable it was of me to have high hopes? Despite being happy that it was happening to me, I wasn't sure if I deserved it. Haaaa, but why did it matter what I deserved? This one was mine.

I should've bragged about it in the forum.

No….nobody would've believed me. Still, it made me feel good to know that I had a lot more than that stupid Christine girl, prancing about like it mattered that she was paired off with some other unknown internet user pretending to be Erik. They were probably both pimply and unemployed.

Mariam called me about an hour later, and of course, she was hungry for even more information. I was losing it, honestly. I _wanted_ to spill and talk about how excited I was and what he was like, I just felt for once like my own friend would make fun of me. She wanted to hang out later tonight and I agreed, but… I couldn't lie to her. I couldn't say that I didn't know what time I'd be able to because of a family event. "I'm meeting him." I said. At 3'o'clock. I reassured her that it wasn't likely at all that we'll be together for very long because it was difficult interacting with him under these kind of restraints… She laughed and said not to worry and that I could just come over when I was done.

Well, this went better than I expected. Maybe the teasing earlier was really just light-hearted, and she could tell how happy I was.

So, by three, I curled my hair, told my dad I was going to Mariam's (she said she'd cover for me. Seriously, isn't that awesome?), and came by her house to change into my dress so my dad wouldn't see. Fucking A. It was still raining, a lot. Mariam was giggling like a moron when I stepped out of the bathroom with my bag of original clothes in hand. I told her I'd see her later, and came down the driveway, my curls confined in the hood of my coat, feeling just a tad of embarrassment. The walk up the street really sucked.

I reached the theater, and came to the back door, dropping the hood over my back as I closed it slowly, separating the sounds of the rain with the thick silence. A few stage lights flooded the red walkway around the curve of the stage. I don't think I would ever be able to get rid of that feeling when I was walking down the isle, not sure what the hell I was doing anymore.

There was a light behind the curtains. It seemed like a good enough cue about where I was supposed to go, so I walked up and I slipped around them, finding myself in a very crowded backstage. There was a flood of costumes hanging from a wooden rack and butcher paper designs on the walls. Strings of sparkling jewels, top hats, an array of props; candlesticks, china, and daggers… I placed my finger on one of the canes sprouting from a basket at the right, eyeing a peculiar crack in the wood of a dresser backed up against the wall. Maybe he wanted me to find these things because we could use them somehow. I wandered towards the costumes and flipped through them carefully. I remember specifically a bright red Victorian dress that reminded me of Carlotta, a worn navy suit jacket, and a little girl's button-up shirt. Carlotta… you know, despite it being exciting that he didn't want anyone else involved, I thought it would've been a cool idea. Bringing Mariam here as Meg, heck, having a whole theater full of people and being that star that disappears. I liked the idea of other girls being present, but none of them having the same importance… Well…that would have to come much later in time. And it didn't seem likely that anyone out there was as crazy as me and the Phantom were.

I paused when I thought I saw a costume worn in Dracula lying on the floor below another rack. I remember Dustin wearing it. I don't know why, seeing how long ago it was. I thought to pick it up when every light in the godamn auditorium suddenly went out. Or at least, a good amount of them. I should have guessed something like this was going to happen again, but it still managed to freak me out, even if just for a second. I shook a little and stood up straight. I couldn't see anything besides really dim streaks of light, coming through the boards of the wood floor at the tips of the curtains. There was one little area where it didn't seem to hit. It made me freeze in curiosity, but disappeared a moment later. That was it- he was _in_ here. I took one step into the dark. "Lets talk in person, Erik." I said nervously. Something about this seemed to suggest I wasn't welcome back here, but I kept creeping in the dark. "Where are you? …Note-sender." The uneasiness caused by the pitch black lead me back out to the stage. I spoke to the vacant audience about how weird this felt, and his voice projected to me from somewhere high above the curtains.

"You know, it's so funny to me, seeing you this way. You think you always have everyone figured out. You can't figure me out even when I help you along." I looked up to a collection of bars hanging across a gray ceiling, then to the sides of the curtains for the usual way that one would reach the balcony of the stage. He was expectedly nowhere. "You're just seventeen. _It's cute."_ He wanted to toy with me today, I guessed.

"I'm not an idiot, though."

"Oh, no. You're very intelligent. But still, _very naïve."_

"I would like to think I know a lot more than other people my age." I nervously voiced to the curtains. "And I don't mean that arrogantly, so what am I so naïve about?"

"Hmph, you just are."

"And you know everything, right?"

"_I didn't say that."_ At this point, I just gave up looking for him and held the trinkets on my necklace as I paced the stage.

"Well…then what are you getting at?"

"Teenagers seem to think they're above the average. But then the average is always higher than they expected. _None of them are really special."_

"Of course not. They just like the idea of it."  
_ "They need it to justify their pathetic uninformed little existence. It's thrilling to think that your body is young and your mind is already worthy of any octogenarian." _

"I see what you're saying… but are you saying it about me?"

"Your peers. _They're_ the ones that're pathetic."

"Amen-"

"But nobody would've noticed you were better than them, because you're still just…seventeen. You don't have the power over anyone, and when you're confronted with real people beyond the little world you know, that superiority dies and you become so vulnerable to what they will say or do to you."

"…I know that. I know I'm a kid. You're talking about this like you're not one of us, and you're not vulnerable."

"No, I'm not."

"So what you're essentially saying is that you're better than I am because you don't have the same weaknesses. …Why do you even like me, then."

"People like me are drawn to that vulnerability, the same way mortality is beautiful. I wanted you before it was too late so I could teach you to be strong enough to be with me." It was unsettlingly interesting to hear this.

"Be with you…" I don't know if he wanted me to think or if he had ran out of words, but he stopped talking. I took a few deep breaths and glanced at the door to the hall. "I wanna ask you something." I paused and waited for him to say something like "depends on what", but he never did. "I visited the opera before we met… and there was someone in the restroom that really scared me. I don't know what he was doing, or why he was there at that time." He remained silent. "Was it you?"

"No."

"You know what I'm talking about, then?"

"Yes."

"It really wasn't you? …Well then who was it?"

"…I don't know."

"…Well. Aren't you at least a little bit concerned? I haven't seen anyone here, except you. It makes me…uncomfortable, thinking that whoever it was could still be here."

"Don't be. If need be, I can protect you."

"…Hmph." I smiled. "But it's not about safety, exactly. I just don't want anyone interfering or…spying on us."

"Not possible." Okay, this was getting a little annoying, I have to admit. I think he was lying to me.

Something about his conversation sparked so many weird responses in my brain, like off notes in an orchestra. The need to ask or be sarcastic though it was out of character was hard to suppress, even if I still did. He seemed to answer my questions with things that just gave me _more_ questions.

We talked a while about the kids from my school.

How the "popular" kids think that if they do something really fucking annoying, everyone's just going to nod their heads and smile. We really just want to punch them in the face.

Teenagers took pride in the fact that they were "weird", when in reality, none of them were weird, they just failed at life. It was another way to try separating themselves from the mob of other unsure, unconfident, developing adults with nowhere to go.

For some reason, everybody was in love with the word "random". "Oh, wasn't that so random, what I just said? Hahaha."

Something about having problems worth therapy was…entertaining? Stupid attention whores. There was a girl in my chemistry class that pretended she was a complete germaphobe one day and started wiping hand sanitizer on her desk every time she came to class. She only did it because the assholes in the striped polo shirts laughed and flirted with her about it.

I liked that me and Mariam turned out not to be the only ones that got so fed up with the behaviors of our classmates. Learning that it wasn't wrong that I suddenly felt so frustrated with them, even if it wasn't my own problem.

It was like we were having a real conversation, to vent about things we had both been through and seen. He wanted to get closer to me and to know my opinions, and I wanted to know his. I really didn't feel like it was in the context of our story. The only detail that brought me back to Phantom-land was that…He knew what he was talking about with me, perhaps from experience, but he could use no solid examples as I had- of certain people or teachers. My questions that might've directed towards certain groups were responded with generalizations. He was particularly bitter about know-it-alls, even though I'd kind of sounded like one earlier.

I don't know why he was putting me up on a pedestal.  
Or even to go as far as saying I was the best actress in my class, and the only one with any real potential. It just wasn't true. He had this rose-tinted view of everything I did. I knew he liked me, then. Knew it. And if he wanted to go out with me… heh… I didn't really know how well that was going to work. Maybe this was his excuse- his only way he could get to know me.

I asked him before I left, around 4:40, if he thought I was ugly, just to find out what he would say. He said he didn't think so. "I'm meeting up with Meg, now." I mentioned. I could feel his smile curl up, wherever he was in the room. "That's my new excuse."

"Tell her you would never be in danger with me." Hmph.

"…I….alright." Then again, would someone truly dangerous want anyone to know they were dangerous? Not that I was accusing him of being… nevermind. I took my coat from the seat again and held open the door. "You know what, I bet you're handsome, even if you're playing someone who's supposed to be really really ugly. Goodbye, now."

Mariam laughed at me even more when I came _back_. It was the funniest idea in the world to her that I was actually doing this- that this sort of opportunity had even been given to me. After we made some hot chocolate to take down to the basement, I told her what he had said as she was setting up the Playstation 2.

"He wants me to know…that he's not dangerous." She smiled like she had a really sweet taste in her mouth as she worked with the cords.

"Yes, he very _sincerely_ wants you to know."  
"Shrek or Frogger?"

"Frogger."

"Kay." She fumbled around with the disc cases. "Anyway, why. I thought it was just between you and him and I didn't understand _anything._" She pushed the TV stand back against the wall and hopped on to the couch next to me with the controllers.

"Well, it _is _between the note-sender and me, but he knows you know, because you were _there_ and you're my best friend. And I suppose he's gathered that you're feeling a little iffy about all of this."

"Well, that's really really nice of him. But I don't buy it." She gave me a toothy smile and went through the game menu like what she'd said had no importance.

"Why not?"

"Cuz. He's a guy."

"But he's _the Phantom._"

"'The Phantom' is a guy, too. Just an ugly old one that lives under a famous European landmark."

"Oh, pfff. You think he would lie about that. Why? What would he get out of that?"

"I don't know. I just think he's not really…"

"Really…" She put the game on pause and looked me in the eye.

"If we could trust him, he wouldn't be luring you to some place with notes and acting…creepy."

"But Mariam!! Don't you GET it? He's been doing this the entire time because he wants to roleplay. He came into my life _as the phantom_ because he knew it would be more exciting that way. Not everything he says is just him being…him. He's being the phantom, and honestly, the phantom is kind of creepy too. I don't know ANYTHING about him for real. I mean I'm getting little clues every time we talk, but I know that he's pretending to be someone he's not, and you shouldn't act like it's weird when it's pretending. Call him weird when we eventually know him for who he is. Otherwise it's not fair." She stared at me a long time and then went for the hot chocolate on the table. I shook my head pitifully until she set it down.

"Ok. Lily. Relax. I'm not trying to piss on your parade. I want you to be happy. And I don't think I've ever seen you so excited over something before."

"Since when have I acted-"

"I've known you for four years! You don't need to act it, I can just _tell_. So go off with him. Frolic at the theater and sing Andrew Lloyd Webber tunes. Anddd, I still say you like him big time."

"Pffffffff."

"Not because you _really _like him, but because he's a Phantom, and we all know that you have the hots for Phantoms. And that's just fine. We all have our kinks-"

"Will you shut up now?!"

"Now I just need to find _myself_ a man." This was a pleasant change of subject.

"Ahhh yes, but of course." I agreed, with a French accent. "We will find'juu aaa pare-fect man. Should I perhaps ask the Phantom if he has any brothers? Cousins?" She slapped me in the arm.

"No, the Phantom isn't my type, at all. And I bet his brothers and cousins are ugly."

"_Shut uppp. _You know, I actually _told _him I thought he was probably handsome today."

"Why?! You don't even-"

"I just said it for kicks. It probably made him feel good, too. I mean if he's _really _going to be so secretive and doing this in order to meet me…"  
"So you agree with me that he likes you."

"Well…" Oh my, this conversation was making me giddy. I don't really know why. I fell back into the couch cushion. "I'm not claiming to be all-knowing of things that give away when a guy likes you, but with what I _do_ know, I've just felt like it, because he says too many nice things about me, and it's like…he's…obsessed…with me…" Mariam gave me a pained grin. "He says I fascinate him."

"HE LIKES YOU." Mariam wailed, and then jumped up to her feet and pointed at me a million times.

"NOOOOO-"

"THERE IS NO GETTING AROUND THAT COMMENT. HE WANTS IN YOUR PANTS NOOWWW."

"WELL HE'S NOT GETTING IN MY PANTS-"

Just then we heard some creaks at the top of the stairway. Mariam plopped back onto the couch and we covered our mouths. Then her mom came down with a basket of laundry. When she left, we giggled moronically and finally agreed to start the game.


	10. Chapter 10 Halloween

HE'S THERE

HE'S THERE

Chapter 10 Halloween

Sunday, October 29th,

_I think it's probably about time I set the record straight. I've been meeting up with a mysterious guy who has been exchanging notes and emails with me. I don't have a clue who he is and if he goes to our school, he's been hiding from me exceptionally well so I wouldn't figure it out. That isn't the point though. We don't go by who we are, because we're not being ourselves._

_If that confuses you, let me explain. We decided to take part in a little roleplay, one that I'm extremely excited about. I address him only as Erik, or the Phantom, and he addresses me only as Christine. We're expected to take on our roles every time we see each other to keep it authentic. He wears a mask, and I've never seen his face save for the lower half, once. He refuses to remove it or say much about himself personally, but it's been very exciting so far. We meet about once every couple days, though I would prefer to visit every night, and basically…talk. I guess. I don't really know what else to tell all of you. We met…we talk…he's a really interesting and intelligent person, and he teaches me things. I feel like he's a pleasant break from the stress of school and having to deal with so many people there who feel empty to me, save for you, Mariam. 3_

_And I know you're a little worried, but you really shouldn't be. If I ever thought I was in any danger, I would've stopped talking to him immediately. Just trust me, and we'll see where this goes._

_I gotta go do the dishes, and my Mom's been a little testy lately._

_TTYL._

Mariam had the nerve to leave a comment a little later saying she'd be careful not to walk in on us if we were doing the deed. Pff.

The Phantom, Mariam, and I… had a very smooth relationship for the next week or so. On Sunday I felt I'd been too demanding and decided to give him a break, and on school nights, despite being totally open to skipping my homework to see him, I knew that my parents wouldn't buy whatever my excuse was. I resorted to emailing him in the morning and wandering by after school, making sure to leave before 4:45 so I could make it home before my parents ever knew I was gone. Yes, I only had about an hour with him, but it was worth it. The only big problem was… the only way to hide the curls in my hair was to take a shower earlier than usual to get them out. (I didn't have a straightener handy because my hair _was_ straight.)

Well anyway, it hadn't even been that long and the theater was becoming a usual part of my schedule. He continued to want to know everything about "Christine", but it really just ended up being about me. I told him about my schedule and what I thought of all my classes. (After all, Christine was seventeen too…she had to go to school.) I also told him about my parents, and…just anything he might want to know. How I moved here. What I miss about where I used to live. My aspirations for the future. Other than that, there was nothing to do. I knew what we really wanted was to meet as Lily and…whoever he was. That tension between us was so obvious, I almost snapped. There was such a small bit of story between the beginning of Christine's opera career and her voyage to Erik's lair that it disappointed and frustrated me.

Something needed to fill that gap.

I wanted more.

…Or maybe I was just kidding myself. Maybe I _wanted_ him to take me to his lair as soon as possible.

I wanted to dig into _his_ world.

I asked him once again if he would just share one little thing that he had written with me, and his answer was still 'no'.

"Pass those along," Mrs. Vardega instructed to the girl at the end of the choir steps, who received a stack of papers. "School's out for Thanksgiving break on Friday the 17th, and the play will be Tuesday through Thursday. Dress rehearsal Monday night. This is a reminder with all the dates and the things you'll need. Make sure not to lose it." Mariam and I turned to each other amusedly. Mrs. Vardega always got like this within a month of the actual productions.

I passed a line of wooden pumpkins sticking out of the bushes in one of the yards down the street from the school and started laughing. There was just something about how they looked that was really funny. The bright orange paint made me hungry for sugar cookies.

I asked the Phantom if he liked Halloween and he said it was his favorite holiday. Then I got up the nerve to ask if he had plans, and if he didn't, if he would…well um…come meet up with me somewhere outside the theater after I went trick'or'treating. He said he'd think about it.

It made me so excited, I actually went home and _made cookies_. Baking made me happy. With Mom's assistance, of course. (At one point, I was about to put them on the tray without any baking grease.)

...

It felt weird to be placing the Christine necklace around my neck, feeling the cold metal chain and fumbling with the hook. It was Halloween evening, and I did so, in my dress, with the bathroom door completely open, so there was no hiding this get-up anymore. Mom had seen me that night I came back from "dress rehearsal", but mentioned to me again that I looked very beautiful, and told me just the words to make me feel an unexplainable emotion: that I was finally who I had wanted to be since I was a little girl.

She had no idea.

Mariam was supposed to arrive in about ten minutes with a couple of her other friends. As elegant as I could be, I leaned into the island in the kitchen and ate from a bag of potato chips, occasionally popping a banana slice into my mouth. This was makeshift dinner before we went out. "Lily, don't forget to wear a coat- it's freezing out there."

"It'll ruin my costume."

"Well it'll ruin trick-or-treating, if you're freezing. Just bring the dark blue one in the closet, please."

"Aghgghh, I can _handle _it." Just then my dad walked in and stole from the chip bag. He crunched on a few and then stared at me.

"Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating?"

"No. I'm still a kid."

"You're almost 18."

"Well, just because most adults don't have the creativity and talent to make a costume doesn't mean the ones that do can't have fun on Halloween." He shook his head in nonchalant agreement and started wandering back into the living room. "Besides, it's free candy from upper-middle class white families!" He was already gone by then.

"How about this one, Lily?" Just then my mom reappeared in the kitchen, holding up a green button-up sweater I had…which was stored away in my closet. In the other hand was the blue coat she was talking about.

"Mom, did you look through my room?"

"No, I just went through the closet-"

"Please stay out of my stuff."

"Ok, but Lily, how does this look? Two layers, and the sweater will still look darling with your dress-"

"_Ok, I'll wear the sweater_."

"It's 44 degrees. Bring the coat."

"We're not going to be out _that_ long. We're going back to Mariam's." She gave me a look like "you know I'm never gonna stop hassling you". "Okay, I'll bring the damn coat."

Just then the doorbell rang. I rolled up the chip bag, stored it away, and ran to the door. I was still getting used to these thriftstore heels… I opened the door and saw two unfamiliar faces, with Mariam in the back, with weird diddly-bobs bouncing off her headband. She'd decided to be some exaggerated version of Thing 1 from Dr. Seuss, and the other girls appeared to be some kind of punk fairy, and a gothic-looking vampire or something. In truth, I was a little uncomfortable going out with people I didn't know, but these were Mariam's…loose friends, and if she thought they were good enough to talk to, then I guess they were for me too. I took the sweater and the coat in my arm as we walked up the driveway, realizing that it WAS fucking cold out. And kind of wet. Ok so Mom was right this one time… I put them both on as Mariam and the girls chattered incessantly. "This is Kira,"  
"Hi," the fairy girl waved to me. I couldn't see her so well in the dark, but we passed a streetlight a second later, and I saw stringy sprouts of orange-brown hair, a bright purple tank top over a turquoise ballerina skirt. The vampire girl uttered "I'm Paulina" and smiled like she was trying to be nice but wasn't really that interested.

We went to a few houses up the street until I realized we would be passing the school to get to the neighborhood way across from it. Paulina and Mariam were hitting it off singing Christmas songs as we strode the sidewalk in front of the starts of the building. Kira turned to me and smiled again. "Who are you?"

"I'm Christine," I said almost instinctively.

"Who?"

"From the Phantom of the Opera?"

"Oh! That's cool. I saw the movie that came out a couple years ago."

"Yeah! I loved the new one. But I prefer some of the other ones."

"Other ones? There's others?"

"Yeah. The recent one is just a film adaptation of the play."

"Oh, really? I didn't know it was a play."

"Heh."

"HEY." Mariam shouted. "WHAT'RE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT OVER THERE."

"NOTHINGGG." Kira said. Yeah, I decided right then and there that Kira kind of annoyed me.

"We're just chatting about our costumes."

"WHOOP WHOOP." Mariam suddenly ran ahead of us and hopped around. Because of her height (she was kind of a shorty), she was actually able to pull off the over-sized red turtleneck. She reminded me more of an oompa-loompa for a maraschino cherry factory than Thing 1. Hehe…

Really though.  
I wondered if the three of them had a few shots of tequila before they came to get me.

There were a few groups of costume-clad schoolmates hanging around at the steps, including an afro-ed guitar-player, and some guy dressed up like Austin Powers running around the tree area. A few noticed we were walking by and stared at my dress almost like it was funny. Blaahhhh.

Anyway, I can't imagine myself caring too much if you explained your trick-or-treating experience with me, unless you really did something spectacular like egg someone's house, or get a shitload of some rare kind of candy from Europe. Or you know…meet some hot guy and run off with him halfway through the night. But none of those things happened to me, we just did the normal stuff, so I won't talk too much about it.

Oh! Speaking of running off with hot guys, I guess I forgot to tell you. I visited the Phantom after school and he decided last minute that he couldn't do anything with me.

ANYWAY.

As if I care.

We went back to Mariam's house once everyone started complaining about being cold and achy. Plus the new episode of House was on at 8:00 and Mariam really wanted to see it. So we did the usual ritual of emptying our bags out in piles on the floor between our legs and sorting them out, trading when necessary. I had a thing for Mike Ike's and Twix. Kira wanted to find all the jolly ranchers, and Paulina seemed to think that she could trade us crap for stuff like Snickers. Come on now. Everybody likes Snickers.

After House, Kira, thank God, had to go home, and me, Mariam, and Paulina were on a candy-high by the time we were in the basement playing Mario Kart 64. Absolutely everything was funny at this point. And Paulina turned out to be pretty cool. She was an artist, and she showed Mariam and I how to draw on something called "okaki". She also did dark looking photography at Deviant Art. I frequented the site only for neat looking desktop pictures, but actually considered bookmarking her page, just for the sheer..dark…macabre nature of her gallery. She was also into cartoons, like Dexter's Lab (classic), and Invader Zim, which as we all knew, was cancelled because it wasn't douchey enough for Nickelodeon. Mariam was pretty good at imitating Gir so she swung around this cement pole near the washing machines going "I'm dancin' like a monkeyyy, ooOOOoo!"

Somewhere along the lines, we were sitting on the couch in a dark, save for a few candles, and Paulina wanted to know more about me. I called myself a pretty whimsical writer and actress who hated school besides Acting and occasionally English…when we _weren't_ reading the godamned mother-fucking Scarlet Fucking Letter. She laughed really hard when I said that and definitely agreed. Then we spent some bitching about it. Then of course, Mariam and I talked about a few things we both loved. Like the Rocky Horror Picture Show (which lead to us dancing and running into each other while singing Sweet Transvestite), Wicked, Sweeney Todd, and television series like Scrubs and Flavor of Love (our guilty pleasure.)

Mariam…decided that making me uncomfortable and annoyed was next on the list, so she made sure to mention, very suggestively, that I was a big Phantom of the Opera fan. Paulina ended up being a fan too. We talked a little bit about the play which she said she'd seen when she was in eight grade, and I _thought_ I had managed to skip anything that had to do with my own Phantom, but it was basically Mariam's goal to let the cat out of the bag to her friend that I barely knew so that they could talk about it and call me "cute". Which they _did. _

"I actually think that that's really cool."

"Thanks." I half-heartedly said. Feeling a little flattered, _yes¸_ as I twirled a curl in my finger. "But it really wasn't my idea, it was...his."

"Who is he?" She asked, really quietly, as if she sincerely wanted to know about it. In a way that was different than Mariam.

"Not sure. He just started leaving notes for me and said that he wanted to be my phantom. So we meet up and talk about stuff. We're still figuring out how to get in real character though."

"Wow." She said. "And it's just a casual roleplay? You just dress up and play somebody?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty sweet. I would love to do something like that. I think I'd probably be Madam Giry, 'cause like, she knows who the Phantom is and she's in on the 'magic', I guess, but she doesn't have to do as much. Oh and I love her clothes." We laughed and seemed to be having a "phan moment". Mariam suddenly walked up and went upstairs.

"Be right back!" We were silent as we heard her steps on the wood.

"Anyway, yeah."

"Yeah."

"Well, I think you make a really cute Christine."

"Heheh, really? Thanks."

"Yeah, you're pretty and little, and…hehe, yeah." Oh God, stop it!

"Thank…you?" I squeaked.

"Hahahaha!"

"Actually… I've been calling Mariam 'Meg' when I'm around him. But I haven't told her that I do that yet, cuz I don't know if she'd be very happy with it. But I think you kind of fit Madam Giry, too. And that would mean you were Mariam's mom!"  
"Hahaha, you're right!"

"I'll have to see if maybe we can extend the roleplay. But last I heard, he wanted it to just be me and him."

"Really? That's awesome. Well I'm not gonna…you know… try to-"

"Oh, no. It's no big deal. I kind of was hoping it could be a little bigger. Because sometimes I'm not really sure where it's going when it's just the two of us. Like it's so much different than what the opera house would really be because of how quiet it is!" We laughed to each other again and paused.

"…That's so weird though. What is he like?" I smiled to myself in the dark as Mariam returned down the stairs.

"He's exactly as a phantom should be."

"Yeah and he's got hot passionate love for her."

"What?!" Paulina shouted. We both turned to Mariam.

"Yeah, they really like each other. It's crazy."

"Stop it! Paulina, she's just exaggerating it."

"Ah, I see."

"Yeah right! I don't need to exaggerate it. They're falling madly in love, and that's that."

"OK. That's enough." I said.

"Besides, he's supposed to like her. She's Christine and she's adorable, and that's not her fault, now is it?" Paulina chimed in. I was so overjoyed to have someone else on my side when Mariam got like this, even if it made me blush. "Let's talk about um… the Power Rangers." The comment made us all giggle, and I think the misdirection worked.

Around 10'o'clock, Paulina hopped in her car and went home because her parents didn't want her out too late on a school night. Damnit, it was true. There was that blasted thing called school the next day. Ah well. Mariam and I stayed busy after that. But I did miss her. Heh, to think I might've actually made a new friend. I asked Mariam why I never heard about her and she said they'd only been hanging out in her math class for a couple weeks, and it was nothing worth noting. Hmph.

After some fiddling around on Mariam's laptop, I decided to come home and go to bed after a night well spent. I just walked up the stairs without even thinking, half-mindedly noting the glow of the television screen in the living room, but in no condition to give a damn. I set the candy bag on the floor; I didn't even wanna think about it because I'd already had way too much of it... The dress was heaven to get out of. I put on some sweatpants and a tanktop and took the clip out of my hair, then turned off the light and slid up the blinds to let the blue glow engulf my bed. I took one glance outside to the faint shapes in the dark, and my eyes froze on an upright shadow in front of the brush. This made me step a little closer and concentrate. The silhouette rose from the grass like a fluctuating flame. It became another tree, another bush in the dark, with a human figure behaving so indifferently to the ominous world around it that it made me frightened. I couldn't see a face, it was just a blur. A black mass with black strands swaying now and then, but I knew it was facing me by the faint lighter shades above its neck. That place where the color lightened did not curve and form the shape of a man's nose, or mouth…It was a disproportionate, large-eyed patch of grey. But I knew that it could see me. My room was pitch black, and when I peered out them, my pale face broke through the complimenting shades like a single bright light.

I came all the way up to the window sill. The neighborhood was suspended in Halloween night. The figure didn't move, it didn't speak; it just wanted to stare at me, but I was afraid to turn away. If I did, I wouldn't be able to see what it was doing. _Erik_, I immediately thought. What, did he change his mind about seeing me tonight? It would've been rude to just disappear from the window and ignore him, but something about this encounter was just odd.

I scurried down the stairs again, this time with full awareness, and saw my parents sprawled out over the downstairs furniture half asleep with the television still on. It was colder down there. I was standing, feeling the chill and staring out into the trees in the front yard, thinking his shadow might rise before the glass. I snatched the blue coat I'd worn trick-or-treating from the knob on the coat wrack, slipped on my black flats, and ran into the kitchen for the garage door. I realized that my whole body was shaking. Our of nervousness, excitement, the cold... I don't know. There was a golden streetlight illuminating the walkway, but I made a turn for the backyard. Didn't have a single clue what the hell I was doing. But if he was out here, he was trying to get ahold of _me_. I could feel the wet grass dampening my feet. Wrong shoes, I thought, but it was a little too late for that. I turned the corner of the house where my room was. I was met with a lonely uninhabited backyard. I glanced up at my bedroom window, then around the yard again. There were far too many dark shapes back here to make out where he had gone, and it was pretty obvious I was out there looking for him, so I started walking back towards the front. "Erik." I called to him without a lot of strength in my voice. Had I completely imagined him? I know I was tired, but Jesus. "_Erik._" I called a little louder. I looked left and right again, even came to the front of the house. "What do you want, Erik. Do you want to see me after all?" Agggh, I felt like a fool.

I stayed out there in the freezing cold for about five minutes, standing in the driveway, waiting for him to appear somewhere. I just wanted to _see _him. Then I had this crazy thought of wandering all the way to the theater. Tch. Yeah, at 10:30, I don't think so.

I walked back inside and fell on my back over my mattress. I wondered if maybe this was all a dream and soon enough I would wake up. That he had not watched me outside my bedroom window that night and I had not met him at the empty auditorium two weeks ago. But I hated those dreams. The kind where something spectacular happens and just as you're running towards that blur of a friend to tell her, you blink into your room and stare into the ceiling. But here I was- already staring at my ceiling: therefore this couldn't be a dream anymore.


	11. Chapter 11 Madame Giry

HE'S THERE

HE'S THERE

Chapter 11 Madame Giry

I woke up the next morning, feeling a little bedraggled, perhaps as if I'd woken during the wrong part of my sleep cycle. I absolutely hated it when the sheets went too far up my face and I had to scramble for wherever the comforter went. Mariam said I was kind of a violent sleeper. Tonight was especially difficult for some reason.

My first thought was "is it really morning?" I sat up and saw the faint blue sun through the blinds. It took me until then to recall random fragments of the night before and I jumped up on my knees to snatch the curtain string and stare out in the backyard again. It was the same innocent, vacant lot, with the bushes I used as a fort in summer. The only difference was it was now November 1st, and everything was drenched in rain.

I really must've been going nuts.

I was walking around outside last night, wasn't I?

Ayayay.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I was just tired and filled with Twix.

Ok, but maybe it WAS him... but WHY...WHYYY would he be there? He told me he knows where I live but he doesn't watch me at my house. Either he's lying, or he really was just there to get my attention and lure me outside. But even if his goal was to lure me outside, how would he ever know that this would be one night when I would look out my window? Maybe he didn't know, but he was um...analyzing it for some kind of entrance plan. My only guess was climbing one of the trees and sliding on to a branch that would limp by his weight into the side of the house. A black cape causing a rustle in the leaves... Ok now I was laughing to myself, because my eyes were wandering the length of a tree that seemed to make it possible for him to do that. But this is ridiculous thinking.

It all comes down to him not making any sense. But then again, he was a guy. Guys were crazy. And girls were even crazier, so whether I imagined it, or he _was_ there, just to make me go outside and discover _nothing_, it was supported by the science of our sexes.

Since I had seen him yesterday, today was a no-phantom day. I checked out the forum again, just to find everyone doing their usual shit, and for some reason felt inspired to work on Eva's character a little bit more. Maybe in school today since there was no time for any of this when I had forty minutes to get ready.

Having no time to shower, and no motivation to try fixing it, I headed out to school with very odd, deformed curls in my hair. By the time I was walking the hallway I heard a "Lilyyyyy" from a very familiar voice. Mariam trotted up and followed me as I entered the chemistry classroom. "Wazzup." She exclaimed. I put my stuff down and gave her a tired smile.  
"Nothing."

"How'd you like the party?"

"Good stuff."

"Kira says she was sick last night. Too much candy."

"Hmph, good."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Did you just say it's good that she was sick?"

"No!" ... "Okay, maybe. I thought she was annoying."  
"Whyyy?!"

"Because she seemed like kind of an idiot."

"When?"

"The whole time."

"Well give me one example, at least!"

"Like when she said she didn't even know Phantom of the Opera was a play." She stared at me and then started laughing. "What?"

"You can't expect everyone to be into that, you know."

"It's not a matter of being _into_ it...I just thought it was pretty common knowledge."

"Maybe. But there's plenty of things I deem common that you don't know about, either."

"Yeah but it's different."

"No, you're just being hard on her." Blah. Why was Mariam being so frustrating lately.

"Ok."

"Guess what."

"What." I took my notebook out and started flipping for a fresh page. I was much more in the mood to start working on Eva a little bit more than carry on this pointless chatter.

"I think I have a crush on someone."

"Well put a rose on your nose." At this point, she could sense I was being apathetic. She put her hands on her waist and stared at me.

"You don't even want to know who it is?"

"...Who is it."

"Hah! I'm not telling you." She slid into the straps of her backpack and walked out the door. Ah, I see she finally got the hint.

If you can make a wild guess, school wasn't so rockin' today. (Because it usually totally _is._)

I was really considering asking the Phantom if he had in fact been wandering around my backyard last night. But I have a feeling he would act like he wasn't, even if he was. I still had that whole "guy in the bathroom" stuff to figure out. I really needed to play a detective of sorts. But there was nobody I could sort it through with. Then I had a little streak of brilliance.

I came to Paulina's deviant art page. I could maybe leave a note for her and see if she might talk about it with me. I mean she was a PHAN. It would be so much easier for her to understand this behavior and help me out. While scrolling over her page, I noticed she had an aim screenname posted, and without a moment's hesitance I copy-pasted it into my buddy list, and the little "door opens" sound blasted in my speakers and shook me, so I turned the fuckers down.

It just...sat there. Being innocent and unsuspecting... and I clicked on it. And wrote "hey" and submitted. I expected her to respond immediately, but it took about a minute for a "...hi?" to show up. "Who is this?" "Lily, Mariam's friend." After that, she very graciously recollected how I had access to her screenname. It surprisingly wasn't that awkward of an initiation and we started asking each other what we were doing and how school was. She was working on her homework, (which reminded me that I _wasn't_ working on mine), and seemed to be frustrated over it, even through composure.

She was a very calm, levelheaded person, just as I'd remembered her that night.. Not in the boring way, but where I could tell she was interesting but speaking to only an acquaintance and a bit preoccupied.

I chose the subject we were connected by, and found out she had never seen any of the movie versions besides the new one, and really suggested she rent the 1998 one for its weird factor. Oh, one more random fact: we both thought Raoul was a douchebag.

We seemed to get along really well and both had so much to say about the story, just as two people that had grown up with it. She wasn't _obsessed _with it, though. I just mean that...I was looking for _anyone_ that would just understand my own obsession and wouldn't feel annoyed if I wanted to go off about it. (Mariam sometimes just wasn't in the mood.) So...I asked her, a little later... (And please just go along with me here.) If...she might become some sort of Giry figure in the roleplay. I didn't know where I was going with this. I basically wanted somebody that the Phantom wouldn't know about or pay attention to that could look out for him. Help me find him during school. Just...team up with me and make me feel like I'm not alone. It was an absurd thing to ask someone I had just met, but she said herself she would've wanted to be part of the roleplay, and I knew this was the only way it could happen.

I sighed in relief and fell back into the computer chair when she said she'd be happy to help me out. And that we should hang out soon and work out exactly how her role would work. I know it was going against what the Phantom had asked of me. But he would never need to know that she had become Madame Giry, and it was only a weak contribution. Just enough to help me find out more about him so that my trips to the theater wouldn't feel so blind.

The following day, we met up in the library once school was over and she drove us over to Bellagio's. We picked a booth and she paid for a small cheese pizza to share. As I've already said... it was very odd suddenly becoming so buddy-buddy with her when I'd met her a couple days ago, but I kind of liked it. This was the first time I was really seeing her in any kind of light, too. She was a bit taller than me, a tad chubby but what I would consider 'pleasantly plump', with dark brown wavy hair that fell, a bit stringy, to the small of her back. She had leather heels and bunch of little chain necklaces. I wanted to study each one while we were talking but I knew it would look like I was distracted.

When she puts her hands over the table, I noticed their pale color, with crimson nail polish and a collection of silver rings. She laced her fingers together and stared at me.

"First off, do you know what his motives are for the roleplay?"

"Nothing besides speculation. Mariam and I think he's liked me for a while and this is the only way he can get to know me. But he also keeps saying how... he's really Erik, and I'm really Christine."

"Makes sense. He's Erik and you're his Christine, and Erik loves Christine."

"Yeah, so there's no way he would want me to be Christine if he didn't want us to be paired off."

"Are there any Raouls?" I was about to take a sip of my drink but I snorted in laughter.

"Hell no. No suitors for me."

"Hmph, well you never know.

"Nah, I think he knows there's no competition."

"But he's already roleplaying with you. So what does he want now?"

"I'm not really sure. I think he just sincerely wants to get to know me. He's not overly aggressive. Even if he likes me, he hasn't been making moves on me or anything. I actually have never even walked up to him in person or talked to him with us both in the same place. I don't even know exactly what he looks like."

"That is so freaking weird." She laughed at me for a little while, and I guess I smiled out of mild amusement. But it really did suck not being able to be closer to him.

"I wish he would let me see him."

"Oh, I believe you."

"Well anyway... "

"Have you ever met anywhere besides the there?"

"No."

"Do you know how he gets there?"

"No. But I figure he either lives near the school like I do, or he drives to school and stays after and comes over there to meet up with me."

"Yeah... but that doesn't narrow it down."

"Meh."

"...I dunno what to do. It sounds like he's got himself pretty in check with everything."

"I know, right? It's like...there's _nothing_ I know that can lead me to a real person. He's just a guy that has no connection with school or Acting, or..anything." We paused and stared at each other. She had this sort of magic in her eyes that was just all too exciting for me. I thought what we had been doing together was...I don't know... dorky. Weird. I told you what Mariam's been saying. That stuff got to me. Paulina didn't have any skepticism.

"Well...my plan is... you tell me anything that you've learned about him and I ask around."

"And you think you could pin-point him based on what people said."

"Nope." She smiled. "But I might come up with a good idea. I would ask people that had to do with whatever you told me about him."

"Ok. Well..." I flickered my eyes in her direction. "What I know about him is... He seems to hate most of the people that go to school. He breaks them up into groups and explains in intimate detail why they bother the fuck out of him. So...I take it he doesn't have many friends."

"Heheh...maybe not. So an outcast is crushing on you." I smiled.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't act like that makes him a loser, because he's very smart."

"So he's in some kind of overlooked group which means he's probably quiet and does nothing at school...and he's smart."

"And he writes."

"So maybe he'd be part of like... Writer's Workshop, or-"

"No, no. He says he doesn't share his writing."

"Ok..."

"Yeah."

"So what DO you know about what he looks like?"

"He's thin. Well I mean...from what I thought I saw."

"Okay."

"It looks like he might be tall. Aaaanddd. He has long black hair. But I don't know if that's part of his costume or not. I haven't seen it up close, so for all I know, it's fake."

"Yeah I don't think I know of any guys with long black hair."

"Neither do I, that's why I wondered about that."

"This is so strange."

"Heh and I don't even know what to do about it...except...keep going to see him."

"Do you like him?" I darted my eyes around.

"I don't know. I mean, probably no. I don't know him."

"Well...maybe you just like him a little?" I laughed.

"...I like the way he thinks. I like listening to him and I get this weird feeling when he starts acting so nice to me. I just don't know yet. But I'd like to do whatever makes him happy."

"I think you like him a little bit." For some reason, her conclusion wasn't annoying to me. I smirked and scrunched my shoulders together.

It was the end of the week in little time, and I was heading to see Erik after telling my parents I'd be at Mariam's. I hadn't even given her a call to her let know I said that because I forgot my cellphone and somehow didn't care.

Since our meeting on Thursday, Paulina- I mean... Madame Giry had just started her research on the Phantom. She found out me and Mariam's lunch spot and stopped by that day, then took out a notebook and let me know that she'd been writing names of people she thought might know about him. It made me squeal with glee. Ok, that makes me sound like an elf, but I was seriously happy. It really felt like this roleplay might become something. I was even amused with the fact that in a strange way, Paulina looked like Madame Giry, and I found out from Mar- _Meg_... that she was actually a senior, and turned out to be very socially savvy, which I kind of guessed because of her charm on me. This also meant that if the Phantom was a senior, she knew plenty about her own class and would be more likely to have connections.

She smirked to me and told me she "had her leads", but decided to be mysterious about it. I guess our get-together was enough to make this friendship official. She also said "bye, Christine" when she left.

As I was saying. When I came to the theater earlier today, something about this finally coming together made me more in tune with who I was supposed to be. I took out some things I wanted to share with him, which included the script for our play coming up, and spent most of the time reciting my lines, clenching my fists, and jumping off the edge of the stage for dramatic effect. I loved this character Vivian I had gotten. She was a melodramatic bitch, but it was great. The Phantom found me extremely amusing, because I heard him laughing when I feel over about half way in. And not purposefully. It was those square heels that decided to curl around the carpet, and my turn was a little lop-sided. I asked him if he would please come out and practice this damned thing with me, now that we were starting to become more comfortable, and he agreed to help me if I put the script behind the curtains. He was Capola, Vivian's sister's mistress...except a guy. Whatever the word for a guy mistress was. And we were having an argument. I loooved it. For one, this guy was a good actor. You must've figured that, but you weren't me, and you weren't standing there, distracted by his skillz to the point where you were forgetting your own lines, like I was. He said I really needed to concentrate. Well WHAT DO YOU EXPECT. I was practicing with someone who was 1. Very good. And 2, a hot phantom. And we were doing something that reminded me of the Angel of Music bit.

"Hey." Amidst this reminiscing of our little Phantom/Christine practice session, Madame Giry sent me an im. After a short exchange, she let me know that she had talked to a few friends who were semi-outcasts, or basically...people she'd met that were not so social, but as I said, she had her charm. Actually, these people were pretty much Me's. Well anyway, she asked a semi-outcast if he knew of any skinny guys, with optional long black hair, that hated most of his peers. He said there were a few of those in every school. If not, a large handful. She then resorted, with a few other people, to ask about a "dark, all black, perhaps suit-wearing guy". Yeah, they all thought she was joking. We agreed...that there just simply wasn't enough information that I'd gathered, and I needed to do a better job. Then we came up with this:

She sneaks into the theater after I go in to see him. I could go to the side door, she could go to the front, sneak into the doors to the lower, back rows of the audience, and... "record his voice" she said. It reminded me of the comment I made to Mariam the night he had me in the dark. This was something that belonged to only him, unlike the phrases she'd been using to describe him. If even one person recognized his voice, we just might have an answer.

To cut to the chase, we tried it, on Sunday. She gave me her cellphone number, and I gave her mine, I called when I was going to see him, and the plan was that once I was at the side door, I'd text her, enter, and twenty minutes later, she would park in the senior parking lot, walk up, and enter the front doors, then record when he was talking with her phone. I made sure to keep him well distracted with the play practice...trying not to be too expressive, for some odd fear that it would give away that I was up to something. I didn't even see her enter. We had a pretty normal night, and when I was walking past the school, I called her to ask how it went.

Success.

She had two solid minutes of him, giving me tips on my lines. Some parts not so clear... she said she could slightly hear him moving across the balcony. It gave me the idea of her staying there after I left. Just to find out...where he...went.

No success with the voice. It made me SO frustrated. She played this thing to like a few of her classes, as a whole. Then admitted to also showing it to Mariam. Mariam thought his voice fit his creepiness. That was the only comment anyone gave about it, because the rest just heard a random voice that meant nothing.

So I was thinking. Maybe the Phantom was never real. Maybe I just made him up as an imaginary friend one day because I wanted something like this to happen to me. And Madame Giry is just pretending to have his voice on her cellphone because she doesn't want to have to be the one to break it to me...that I'm a troubled loser. Yes, you're reading about someone who has gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. Except more like Phantom Puffs. Or Erik Puffs.


	12. Chapter 12 The Damn Rehearsal

(author's note: Hellooo. Thank you for the reviews last time.  
I originally planned to get right down to business with this big idea I had planned. But as I wrote it out, I realized that it needed to be slightly build up to. So instead of "The Damn Play", this is a somewhat shorter than normal chapter for the "damn rehearsal".)

HE'S THERE

Chapter 12 The Damn Rehearsal

With our play, Fool's Dance, creeping up on us, I sort of started to dive into my character and forget everything else. It's what I would have done, if I still didn't have a life or a phantom or all that stuff. Giry was the one with more connection to Erik at the time. I had her, or rather, she very willingly had _herself_ in a pretzel, trying to unsolve this mystery. The hopelessness of the failed recording, the fact that nobody at school looked like him... it tangled up in both of our brains. It was just... I HAD to focus on this play, or else I was going to screw up. I only had a supporting role, but Christ. If I didn't do good in this, in my junior year, what would help me _ever_ get the star role?

So...while busy with my script, and completely oblivious to the homework piling up, Giry pressed on with the "investigation." And me, I failed to be a very convincing Christine and devoted everything I said, even with Mariam and around the house, to Vivian.

How do I describe her attitude? Aggh. So rich with pity. She was one of few characters in this play that weren't sizzling in a pot of chaos. This was a girl that had always thought her older sister was a fucking idiot, and was strangely amused by the final expression of that trait, in a big bang that was our play's plot. She was sick of it all. Sick of acting like an adult while she frolicked about with a cringe-worthy aura of naivete. Sick of this primitive behavior whenever she didn't get what she wanted. Damn bitch, Irene. I was actually starting to really hate Irene, too. She...she um...kind of reminded me of Kira. A frolicking fairy idiot. Alright, I'm kind of kidding. I don't have that much against Kira, I don't even know her. I just don't _plan _on knowing her, either.

So Vivian was planning to expose the whole sha-bang and run away, by herself. But she has no idea that someone else is in love with her, and if she leaves, he will be heart broken. ... Now that I'm actually explaining the play, it seems like typical Shakespeare. Like a sloppily concieved episode of The Days of Our Lives. But I promise, it's not.

…………….

It was Sunday, November 12th, two days before the first night. Dress rehearsal was tomorrow. I had all the lines, all the little things I wanted to do with them. The sarcastic tones when she explains to Capola how much their relationship means to her, the sickened, spitted remarks she delivers to Irene in the third act... I was _almost _ready. I just needed to play off of Irene herself, and the others. Nicole Castrati was playing Irene. I didn't talked to her but I actually really liked her (how could I _not_ like one of the stars, when they so clearly better than me?), but I think we could manage looking like complete opposites, one that wants to rip out the hair of the other. It reminded me that the Phantom seemed to remark on her, not with names, but descriptions, that she only looked like a better actress because she was better at making her face look distraught and helpless, and that was the kind of role most people tried to sympathize with, disregarding the respectability of characters like mine, that had emotions, but used their brains. He was just saying this stuff to make me feel better. Either that or he just _wanted_ me to be better than her because he had his little rose-tinted vision. He liked ignoring the cracks in the lense.

Anyway, I know the play business is only interesting for those involved with it, so that's the end of that.  
I had not been reading The Scarlet Letter for a whole week. They were into chapter fourteen and supposed to read up to eighteen this week, and I simply didn't care anymore. I had no time with the play three nights in a row, no motivation, and this book was not going to make me a smarter, more creative, or insightful human being. It did nothing but tear away at my joy and happiness. At my very brain cells. I could feel them stripping into threads with every labored word. And my GOD, if I had to read the word "breast" again, I was going to take the book down to the living room, figure out how to light one of those logs for the fireplace, and watch it burn a nice little deserving death.

I also didn't write the journal responses, and I failed the two pop quizzes. I wasn't able to answer any of the questions, so I drew a bunch of smiley faces with horns and said I was sorry.  
I also skipped quite a few math assignments. Mr. Darelle made us do those stupid 2-point ones every night. I had a C. For now, it was safe enough not to take the homework seriously. At least _I _thought. Besides, last year, he let me by with a D+.

Let'ssee... what else didn't I do. I didn't look for a job. I didn't.. I SUCK, OKAY? I'm just gonna stop right now or I'll pretty much persuade you into not reading about me anymore.

…………….

Rehearsal morning, and Madame Giry came to me with really disturbing news.  
It was 8:25 in the morning, and she shattered this morning's tranquility by running up to Meg and I while we were having a chat in the hall. That night, without even asking me, she went to the theater after school and tried to get Erik to talk to her. I asked her why. Meg looked really surprised. She claimed she wasn't afraid of him, and wanted to somehow pry him out of the shadows. That since she wasn't me, he wouldn't feel the need to act so illusive and scary. I had enough experience with him to know this was a vein effort, even one that might completely fuck us over.  
The lights were on, and the front door was open, she said. There was no darkness, and no Phantom, and in place of it, a group of people carrying in equiptment, and a man at the front platform in the lobby. She said she very quickly closed the door and ran for it before they could notice her. What. What. _What. _"I'm telling you the truth," she said. And I had no reason not to believe her. And it made sense. What didn't make sense was the already deep-rooted issue about where Erik came from, and why he had such exclusive access to a theater that clearly wasn't is. Then, right under our noses, all our time was up, and we all walked in separate directions to get to class. I was left with a million concerning thoughts.

…………….

Dress Rehearsal started around 5'o'clock. While I was still at home, I called Madame Giry and said sorry for acting upset before we went off to class. I understood her curiosity, but this kind of stuff wasn't a good idea, and luckily she understood completely, and I invited her to come watch us rehearse.

…………….

Blunt, bright, and lively. Words I didn't think I'd describe the theater as, but had long ago, before I came here to talk to a stranger in a mask. We were all back together again, with the same faces and the same nervous enthusiasm as our rehearsal for Dracula. All the members of Acting 3 were scattered throughout the lobby, sitting on the floor, chatting it up as Mrs. Vardega, the choir director, and some guy I didn't know had a conversation by the desk.

So.

Weird.

I guess...I guess...the phantom...wasn't...there. Why would he be. Even if he wasn't involved with the play and wanted to hide, he couldn't hide anywhere. There were too many of us, and all the lights were on. And we would be absolutely everywhere this evening. The lobby, the bathroom, the theater, the backstage, the balcony, the deck behind the curtains... I knew he was supposed to be playing an Opera Ghost, but I can at least accept his limitations.

I spotted Mariam sitting in a circle with some girls and joined her. She smiled at me smugly. "Hey...Christine. Look where we are right now."  
"_I know._"  
"You think the Phantom's watching us right now?"  
"Probably not."

"I wouldn't be so sure."  
"Phantom, what?" Some girl asked next to us.  
"Nothing." Before we knew it, all of them were joking about the Phantom of the Opera.  
"DUH. DUH DUH DUH DUH _DUHHH._" I rolled my eyes, and Mariam giggled.

Soon after, Mrs. Vardega announced that we could enter the theater and begin dressing. As we inched through the door and walked single file down the first row, I noticed that we were literally being bombarded by flourescent lights, both on the stage, and in the backstage. His presence didn't touch or invade any of the atmosphere.

The girls scurried for their dresses, skirts, and jackets. The boys went for the tight 18th century knickers and frocks. The boys were to change in the bathroom, and the girls were to go, handfuls at a time, into the little make-up closet at the far right. Meg walked out not long after in a deep red dress and looked like she could barely breathe. Her role, and I supposed I forgot to tell you, was Capola's assigned wife. So if you can guess, she wasn't going to be very happy about Irene either. (See? I told you. She's just ruining everyone's lives for herself.)

I was so happy. I was wearing _pants. _At least, for the second halfPants, and boots, and a nice frock: a magenta color with gold trimming. She had all a woman's jewelry, and a luscious set of brown curls, with these little diddly-bobs down the side, in a ponytail. But since her role was distinguished as the sister nobody noticed, and she starts not caring anymore that she's unconventional...voila, pants.

…………….

We had some laughs, did our thing, and took a break around 6:30. We had two more acts to go. I noticed Mariam taking Paulina off. Somehow, it peaked my paranoia. When they were rehearsing without my character, I'd spent a lot of time sitting in the audience with them, glancing at the length of the balcony. Remembering all the lights, and the mirror. When they returned, I think Paulina knew I looked suspicious. "We just went to the bathroom, kiddo." She smiled and sat next to me as if it was nothing. I eased back into the chair and just tried to pretend there was no reason to think about anything else besides the play.

Little Meg and Madame Giry, I thought.  
I shook my head.

…………….

I emailed Erik when I got home and told him we had rehearsal, and that it went well, and I was sorry that I had been ignoring him lately. And, that as soon as this play was over with, we would definitely have way more time together. I also invited him to go see me, and I reassured him that if he did so, I wouldn't be looking around for him or try to call him out. Also that even if I wanted to, I couldn't, because I was in the godamned play and wouldn't have time. It looked reassuring enough, so I sent him the email and he responded like a half hour later and said he would um...most definitely be there.

And wouldn't miss it for the world.

…………….

I kept the blinds open all night while I went over the lines for the ending again. What I had planned for these last scenes weren't in sync once I knew how the others were doing them, so I had to fix myself up. I had the magenta frock on most of the time, 1. Because it was Vivian's character, and 2. Because it was really comfy. I'd pace around and enjoy all the candles I got from the cabinet in the kitchen, glowing on the dresser and the floor, along the wall. Then peer once outside, thinking maybe he would be out there again. And this time, my room's orange glow would be too much to keep him away. So tomorrow he'd be watching us. As himself? I really don't know. I didn't care. I'd settle for either. Just _pleeease_, I thought, please come see me in person and wish me good luck.


	13. Chapter 13 Inside the Mirror

**Monster Author's Note: I wanted to announce for those who haven't been there before, that my profile has a link to ****He's There****'s website, and I just posted some artwork for it (including an absolutely adorable gift from a friend) in the story section. That is my shameless pluggage for the time being. X3**

**Secondly, one of my reviewers was a bit discontent with the shorter than usual update last week, and it's true that I wasn't so happy with it, and I apologize. I just wanted to explain why it happened: I actually only wrote it in one day, the one time I wasn't busy that week because of the holidays. Even then, a new chapter a week is as much as I can offer... there are simply other things to do, and I'm not always motivated to write. I'll also be the first author to admit that if I try forcing myself to write, it isn't pretty. It takes time for me to even know what I want to do next. Maybe I just don't have the natural talent. :/ Along with this, I'm always involved with my other stories in some way, even if this one is currently my main priority. But... besides a few of the drawbacks, I liked to think I was being really productive with this, and we all have a different pace. It takes longer for me because I'm self-critical, and end up fixing a lot of stuff and having second-thoughts. Anyway, I'm glad that people look forward to my updates. (I've actually never had a group of people that did, and I don't know how to express my appreciation), but it's still my own project, so...well... don't take it offensively but...you shouldn't push me, just be happy there is an update. . Ok I'll shut up now. ::sinks back into corner::**

**Third, this chapter is SO BAD. I don't even know what I was thinking, and I forgot anything that I had ever learned as a writer when I did it. Please have no hesitance to give me critique. Then I can fix it and repost. **

HE'S THERE

Chapter 13 Inside the Mirror

_We don't need any of this anymore. _

The drone of so many voices in the lobby became the perfect silence for me to think as I cut through the people, searching left and right for Meg before the show. There was no turning back - it was opening night and everyone _plus_ their parents were pulling into the parking lot and getting their seats. The theater was dimly lit, flooded with sound, and the actors and actresses of Fool's Dance were fluttering the backstage with constant activity. Mrs. Vardega was particularly jumpy, hurrying so fast her sash was blowing in the air, and her earrings were jingling. I remember I stopped and thought about how charming she looked despite being in a hurry. "Lily, can you give the attendence to the man at the front desk?" She seemed to notice I was hovering around nearby, adorned in Vivian attire, with nothing to do.  
"Sure." I grabbed it and walked off. There was a grey-haired guy at the table, checking in all the parents. I gave the slip of paper to him and when he had it in his hand, it was the first time he thought to look at who'd given it to him. He gave me a weird eye as if he recognized me from somewhere, so I flickered a smile as to say "well, thanks for doing business" and left. ... Don't ask _me_.

Over all, I say night one went pretty well. Nobody forgot any of their lines, at least to my knowledge (sometimes if you forget, you can just improvise and nobody knows the difference.) Oh, and you know- funniest thing. I forgot that the phantom was even watching me until act 2. Never came to see me, never left any notes or anything... Squinting beyond the lights into the oval-shaped heads was a tempting idea, but if he was really out there, he would see my ungraceful endeavor and call me a liar. Ever since that moment of realization, I was actually nervous. Well I mean I...I'm always nervous, but in the good way. This was bad-nervous. And what didn't help was the fact that we were all getting hot. The heat was turned top notch because of the weather, but we were all dressed up and busy.

Act 4 was when I pretended to climb out this "third story" window and escape Capola who was trying to get me to lie for him again. I delivered an arrogant disconcerned monologue which all came down to meaning "ENOUGH!", and did a little turn-around into the backstage. They made it look like I was climbing down bed sheets or something, but it was actually just a ladder, and a couple stage-craft boys were holding it in place. I hated this part, because all of the tension I'd built up in the room I escaped was spoiled by how uncool my exit was. This was the end of the play, for Vivian. She released the details of the affair and ran away. Kind of a strange role, but maybe that's why I chose it.

Poor Mariam, she was so in love with Capola, she went and tried to kill Irene, and then offed herself on accident. (Yes, if you were wondering, Irene lived. WTF?)

Anyway, we had a great time. I'm sorry if what I said up there was too... involved for your interest. The amount of drama and shit in this play, and everyone arguing and saying they're going to kill themselves if the other doesn't shut up...was too much of a blast to miss. Honestly, I think this was my favorite play that we'd done so far.

So Madame Giry, who'd been in the audience laughing her ass off at our performance, offered to take Mariam and I over to Sharie's afterwards, and after my parents were all...parent-y, and hugged me and acted like I was amazing, they gave me permission to go with them, and we hopped in her car. Mariam and I admitted to skipping food before the play, but that didn't stop us from getting dessert for late dinner. We stayed out until about...ten, I would say. And she dropped Mariam off first since she was higher up the street. While she still had time, and we were silent in the car, she asked about _Erik_, like I knew she would at some point, so I just had to tell her that I hadn't seen or heard from him all day and didn't know if he'd even come. She said, if she might throw in her two cents, at which I said "sure", that "[I need to take control". To her, I was letting him be too difficult. I agreed. But what could I do? "Let me go back to the theater." She said. "I want to talk to him. It's driving me crazy not knowing who he is. I can find out, I just need to know more." I told her no. It was just going to make him mad if he found out about her. "Yes," she reasoned, "but how long can he be mad at you?" I didn't know or want to find out. She had all the same questions as I did, but I seemed to be the only one that knew how to act with caution. I waved goodbye to her, she drove off looking crestfallen, and I went inside to take a shower, not do my homework, and go to bed.

- - -

Day 2

Boring-ass school day. Despite how wonderful the activity was during the night, the teachers and classmates decided to act like none of it was going on. Who knows what we talked about; I was busy doodling in my planner. I only remember two parts of the day: lunch, because Meg told me MADAME GIRY asked her in math if she knew anything about the Phantom that _I _didn't. She didn't, of course. Well, she said she mentioned how he started off giving me notes in the band room cupboards... Giry already knew that though. And then um...second thing... Mrs. Abbott called me to her desk during the last 10 minutes of English and basically asked why I wasn't reading The Scarlet Letter. I tried to just be completely honest and say that I didn't see the point in it, but it didn't go so well. Yeah, she told me if I didn't want to fail a huge test that was coming up, that I'd better get cracking. I figured.

- - -

So I was having my make-up put on again backstage. Feeling a little regretful that I hadn't gotten to reading that damn book like I said I would when I got home. I said "a few chapters, so I won't feel like such a bad student", but then Meg showed up at my door and we ended up making dinner together. We had smoothies from the fruit on the counter, and a quesadilla on this huge plate. And she put whipped cream on it. I thought she was a 'tard until I tried it. It was...strangely good.

But...that didn't solve my Scarlet Letter issue, and I was an idiot.

- - -

Sometime during the intermission, Meg walked up to me and looked like she was going to have a heart attack. "I saw him." She said.  
"Who?"  
"You know."  
"That guy you like?"

"NO. THE FUCKING PHAN-" Midsentence, I covered her mouth with my hand.  
"SHHH." I removed the hand a second later.  
"_He's not happy._" She whispered with wide black eyes. I glanced in all directions, figured it wouldn't be appropriate conversation for the area, and led her to the bathroom door. But...there were tons of people in there, so we hurried outside and started walking away from the building.  
"What the hell happened."  
"Uh...he told me to stop trying to find him."  
"Have you been?!"  
"NO!!! I promise!"

"_Mariam-"_

"I'm serious!!! I would never do that! I don't know what he's talking about. He said STOP using _her_ for your suspicion, and stay out of the way." I frowned.  
"He thinks you're using Giry."  
"Her name's _Paulina, _Lily."

"He knows about Madame Giry, then. How."  
"Aghgh." I went off on my own thought and accidentally ignored her after that.  
"Ok. Listen.-"  
"He is SCARY, Lily. Have you seen him yet?!"  
"Well not in the best-"

"OH MY. GOD. He's-"  
"I don't want to know yet!-"  
"Taaaall."  
"Stop-"  
"Remember you called him a vampire?!"  
"I said he KIND of looked like a stereotypical one."  
"YOU WERE RIGHT. He's like WHITE. AND HIS HAIR."  
"WILL YOU STOP YELLING?!" We looked back to the glowing lobby through the open doors. "I think we need to go back soon, okay, just STOP. Stop yelling and I will try to squeeze in an explanation about Giry so that he knows it's not your fault. I just don't know when exactly I'm going to see him again-"

"Get on your knees, girl. This guy is like your dream."  
"Okay, I have no idea what that's supposed to mean; let's just go."

So we went inside.

- - -

Later, we met up with Madame Giry and they talked about him right in front of me, as if I had no point of view to share. It also made me annoyed that Meg pretty much knew more about how he looked than I did. Madame Giry seemed so amused by these correspondances, and then she just started smiling at me.

"I think you'll be meeting him during all of this.."

"Why do you say that?"

"I just think you will. Tonight or tomorrow night."  
"Yeahhh, seriously, Lily. I do too." Meg added.

"Why? Because he tried to get in your face?"  
"No, but he's a phantom, and this is a play. Think, kiddo." Giry added. I darted my eyes around. We were right in the middle of the lobby, a sea of faces surrounding us. I looked up to the ceiling and half-smiled.

- - -

Put a note the only place I thought he and he alone would find it. At the bottom of the stairwell to the side of the hallway. It took a greal deal of courage for me to finally descend the steps, and it was dark down there. I wrote with a pen I found at the desk and stole when nobody was looking.

"Please come see me tomorrow."

- - -

So...this was gonna be the last night. After that, he'd have no more opportunity to do whatever phantom-y stuff he might've had planned. Okay, kidding. I don't meant to trivialize him. Well I do a _little_, because it's hard to take something like this seriously right now. We're not that close, and he hasn't done anything spectacular. Actually, I'm lying again sort of... I'm really just saying all of this because part of my teenaged brain wants to take it seriously, but I know that if I do, I'll get myself too worked up. Please keep in mind that whenver I write something that sounds calm, as if I'm seeing the situation with a very down-to-earth eye, it was decided to be expressed that way after lots of lots of rethinking, away from the first draft, which was chaotic hypersensitivity. I want to appear like I have everything under control and understand how my life works. Blahhhhhhhhhhhh.

What do you want me to say? That I wasn't forgetting I was Vivian? It was day three. I wanted to be Christine, to straighten this out, to find out what he looked like, to get down to fucking business. "People of the first act, please get in your places." Mrs. Vardega instructed, right behind me. Almost as if she knew I was thinking about something completely irrelevant. She should've just slapped me. I ran up with the other costume-clad students and saw Mariam at the other end, with her arm around Capola. Oookay, here we go.

- - -

"Lily, you look tired."  
"Mmmnhh. I _am_ tired."  
"Two more acts. Our last break before the end of play season."

"Yeah, I know." I was dissapointed, I guess. Great time. But by the third night, just kind of bushed. And I wanted him to be there. I'd somehow convinced myself that this was the deadline for the Phantom's secrecy. Kind of stupid thing to do when we hadn't even talked about it.  
"Yeahhh... I'm too tired to hang with Paulina a third night. I'm probably gonna like... pass out as soon as I get home."

"Hahha, I know, me too."  
"Come with me, I actually need to tell her, 'cause she thought we were going-" I held up my dress and we headed up the walkway to the balcony. Paulina had taken a back seat to keep watch of the theater, just in case she could spot a potential "Erik".  
"'Ey Pauuuly." She smiled at us in our dresses.  
"'Ey Mar." She looked to me. "And Lil." Hehehh.  
"Hey do you think we could hang out another night? Everyone in the play's really tired. I think I just wanna go home."

"Oh, that's fine."  
"Ok great."  
"I was just about to get a drink, why don't you come with me?"

"Oh, sure!" Madame Giry rose from her seat and I dragged myself behind Meg. They hopped down the stairs, and I barely felt inclined to even walk. I could have sworn I saw the door along the wall open, but touched my hand on the railing and thought I'd be able to descend the stairs when I felt myself being totally pulled back by one arm. I landed against the door, _from the other side_, meeting eyes with a black figure in front of another stairwell, fading into the dark.

"If you stay after this production, I will pull you into the mirror." His breathing was rapid, as if he'd raced all across the theater just to find me. My instinct was to stare at his body in the suit; the body of the voice that I talked to, backed up into the stair railing. My eyes trailed over the buttons up his vest and the streak of black hair over a pure white collar. I also noticed, briefly, that this hair met a hairline, which meant it wasn't fake. He was just how I'd remember him since the encounter on the balcony. Tall, slim limbs, white gloved hands that I held to in the dark. I held to this guy in the dark. He woke me up. And I think he realized I was looking him up and down a little too much for comfort. "Go now." I continued to stare at him like an idiot. "GO." I searched blindly for the handle and excused myself like I had never seen a thing.

Okay...okay...  
'Kay, what was I just doing.  
Oh, act four.

Okay, where was Capola.  
_...Oh Jesus, he was here, what?! I'd just seen him?! _

Oh wait, I was following Meg and Madame Giry. Well they were way gone now.  
So I have to find some way to come back here tonight.  
He was inviting me.

_Oh God. Was he going to try kissing me? _

_Oh, STUPID THOUGHTS. _

Work through the layers, Lily. **ACT FOUR**. You're not Christine. You're not yourself. You're Vivian, and it's act four. Vivian cares not for phantoms, and she is not meeting one after she climbs down the window. She's running away, forever. No time to think; the stage-boys were at their curtain posts.

- - -

All I could think about after the monologue, backstage and alone.  
Black skinny body with buttons...stringy, raven hair. White, white collar and neck. White fabric fingers.

- - -

The girls noticed that I looked like a shaky, giddy mess by the time we did the bowing, and the smiling, and the picture-taking, and all that stuff that didn't matter... "Nope, nope, everything's fine. AHAHA. I've _got_ to wake up though. I need to." I smiled with drunken grace. Giry gave me a look and pulled me into a corner.

"You saw him, didn't you?" I nodded like I was stupid. "What did-"

"We can't talk about this here, he's _listening to us._"  
"There's no way he could be listening to us right now, it's too loud-"

"Believe me, he most definitely has to be." I smiled. She took me outside after that. Meg wasn't far from us, standing with her dad, who was taking the bag with her costume. (we were supposed to take them home and bring them back to the choir room.) I was still wearing mine. There were just too many girls trying to get changed for me to care.  
"Christine," she tried for my attention. I faced her in surprise.  
"What."  
"What did he say?!"

"We're going for a little rendezvous tonight."  
"Are you serious?!"  
"Yeah, I have no idea what's gonna happen. But if he makes moves on me, I'll be sure to call you." I said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.  
"Oh my _God. _Yes, yes, _please_ call me at some point. And DON'T be afraid to, if you feel uncomfortable. He's a creepy guy in a mask after all." I laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.  
"I know. I'd have to be an idiot, but he's Erik, for Christ's sake."

"If you find out who he is-"  
"I know, I know, I'll tell you. But don't tell Meg."  
"Why?"

"She'll blabber it to everyone."  
"Oh, right. Well my GOD, good LUCK, dearie." She patted me on the back, and the two of them linked arms and walked off to her car to go home. It was weird seeing them do it without me. If this were any other day in the world Lily knew before, she'd be going with them.

Soon after, I saw my parents pull up. I smiled half-heartedly, wondering when the time would finally come that I was back here, by myself, and got in the car. Some time would be needed for them all to leave, and the theater to be vacant. An hour, I thought.

- - -

I hadn't the time or energy to do my curls or slip into the dress. I thought Vivian's pretty costume was nice enough, and refreshing. Yet I was so so tired... I buttoned up her coat, and... stood completely silent, leaning into my bedroom door. I glanced once towards the open window. I was reverting to that same feeling as the first night he invited me to the theater. The night we left without anything because I'd brought Meg. I wondered what would've happened then, if she'd been gone. After the hands lead me along the wall, where would they have taken me if there was no one else to stop them? Aghh... my heart beating. Such a strange feeling to have for someone I doubted at first to really be what he was claiming he could be. I was creeped, but strangely allured by his physical body, even though I'd seen it only for a moment. The fact that it had been so all along. That it breathed, up and down, up and down, and had the hands that I'd seen against the wall, constructing my letters, and hiding them.

I really couldn't wait any longer. This was our roleplay, and it was beyond any limitations that my world; Lily's had. Furthermore, it really had been a whole hour. I couldn't keep him waiting. I clutched the handle, turned it slowly, and came out into the hallway. I descended the stairs, aware of the flicker of the television, and saw my mom, turned to the other side on the recliner. I took a deep breath, and crouched down, and went down each step, one at a time, until my shoe hit the hard wood, and I slid on to my knees and started crawling into the kitchen. When I was out of view, I stood up again and opened the door to the garage.

I had never sneaked out before. Even being outside in a familiar place at the side of the house...didn't feel familiar at all to me.

- - -

It was obviously used recently, but that thick, rich livelihood was gone again, when everyone had packed up and went on home. Just like that. It made me know with all certainty that he was waiting... the one that stayed behind. And he could hear me when I opened and closed the front doors. I assumed he was waiting for me on the stage. I had to inch and inch carefully through the dark in hopes I didn't walk into something.

Then...I was sprung upon, and there was a cold plastic touch on my cheek. We were going backwards, and he had me in both arms, pauses following retractions into the wall, building up a motion and leading me, without sight. I was loosely holding to the hands on my waist. I wasn't used to having them there and he was so much closer than he really needed to be. I couldn't even think beyond the moment. He brang us a step further into the corner, and breathed into my shoulder, pausing, perhaps to count my heartbeat, or curl his fingers a little tighter... All he had to do was bite me, release his poisen, and eat me up. I love how I had ignored the danger that surrounded his character; I had the mind of an insect, too senseless to turn away from a beautiful looking trap, and I was with him here at night, backed up into a corner. He carefully slid away from me, nudged the small of my back, and clasped the hand that had fallen to my side. I relied solely on his touch, and the tug of his fabric hand to find the light. He purposefully opened the doors, flushing himself in color from the street lights. He just looked at me and smiled, even if I didn't look a bit as content as he was. There he was, the black-limbed white-handed spider. This was his turn to prove to me he was more than a note-sender... "You want out of here?" I laughed under my breath.  
"Yeah." He tugged at my hand and led me to the side of the building, along a splintered wood wall, and approached the starts of the forest. He entered without speaking a word, and gradually his pace grew. I remember glancing back at the theater: our foundation; how we met, and where we interacted, in some little moment I had before he started running and I could do nothing but follow him. The treetops masked him from the sky- it seemed wherever he travelled, the light ran away from him. I had my hand deeply embedded in his.

That play we had tonight didn't even seem to be in the same universe.

I no longer really felt like Lily, nor was I dressed in her clothes, nor did I remember all that her body had been through up until this moment. To me, the active, burning legs, and the harsh breathing were only a vessel's vexing circumstances. I was too intent on using the eyes of this vessel to catch those moments when the black thinned and I could see his hair whipping over his shoulders. It felt more like I was dreaming, running through an endless tunnel where my feet never touched the ground. I had never been to school that day, I didn't live in Oregon, or run inside from the rain to watch t.v. at the opposite end of the house. I didn't have to keep a notebook of my thoughts, dreams, or secrets. I had but one secret, and I was running away with it. We didn't have the time for that anymore.

The distance we'd gone must've been amazing.

He slowed down once he realized I'd grown tired and helped me along very slowly the rest of the way. If there was one thing he didn't know about me, it must've been that I was out of shape, but I think he quickly realized what he had put me through. I was startled by his hospitality; the way his hands gave me support when needed, how...hmph...well... he picked me up, even for just a second, to help me to the other side when he thought it looked too risky. I was some kind of Cinderella to him, even if I didn't understand his reasons, I just enjoyed being special. "We're almost there." He reassured.

It was...the _weirdest _feeling in the world to be running away to an unknown destination with a stranger. Then I gradually caught sight of an opening. I could see the same starless sky, waiting for us to reach its very tip, and truly be lost from this world. He must've known all about this route, because we never stopped heading towards it, and he let me be the first to slip through the bushes and escape onto a walkway. I brushed off Vivian's coat and met the flickering lights of downtown Portland, just across the river, with its reflection in the water. The place where we'd escaped continued in each direction, lining a vast cement walkway, pillars along stone railing. I could remember the few times I had been here with Meg, but never at night, and never alone. Truly amazing, how far we'd gone. The dimmed hidden structure of the bridge made a long black arch in the horizon, before his shadow cut the scene in the corner of my eye. This forced me to drop my eyes, watching the slim black legs as they circled me once, and stopped. I couldn't look up to him. Too nervous to do it. I would've liked just to keep walking, to never meet that moment where we had to speak, but I knew he had something to say to me.

"You're really...stunning." I glanced up just once, to try smiling at him, frozen by these black eyes, just staring directly at me. He had no fear of his own, apparently.  
"Thank you." We came to the edge of the path and I eyed the water.

"Your performance was excellent, all three nights. You're beautiful. You're smart." Kay, where was this going... "And I've been nothing but illusive and troublesome." I couldn't help but look at him now.

"You have not.Well okay, you have, but not in a bad way."

"Really. I've been a failture." I backed up into the wall along the river view, shaking my head at him, confused and flattered all at once. "Christine." He repeated. I shook my head at his comments as he drew closer to me.  
"What." He leaned his hand into the pillar at my side, eyeing me again through the mask. Black, solid black eyes...

"I would have never imagined that such a treasure would end up with me here, after all of that."  
"After what."  
"I realized last night that I was afraid of you." He smiled with thin colorless lips. It made the cracks of my mouth rise too, and I couldn't help it. "I noticed that when I first found out about you, I never thought I could know you. And now I know you and I'm still hiding."  
"Why would you ever think that you couldn't know me?"

"Because you're perfect the way you are, without me."  
"I'm notperfect."  
"You have no idea who you're putting up with." He laughed a little, but I almost didn't get it.

"No, but you said it shouldn't matter."  
"Well," He started, maybe even with agitation, "I'm meaningless." A troubled laugh escaped me.

"What?" He didn't reply, and soon just leaned forward to stare into the lake. "That's a very self-critical thing to say."

"You don't know me though." I think he realized afterwards that he was beginning to sound harsh. _"You don't know if I even have the right to pursue you." _His voice was calmed, but it made no difference to me, with the kind of absurdities that were coming out of it.

"Why wouldn't you?" Again, he was silent. The motionless alien face continued to watch the water. "What do you mean by that? That you don't have the right."  
"I don't belong where you do." Kay, this wasn't so amusing anymore.  
"And you have a complete understanding of where I belong."  
"Wherever it is, I'm an intruder." He spoke dryly but with estranged amusement.

"...Give me a break." He seemed alarmed that I had the guts to call him out on it. "You wouldn't be around right now if I wasn't letting you." I eyed him a long time before I walked away from the edge of the path and waited for him to follow me.

"So... in case you're wondering...you're the most amazing guy I've ever met." He slowly turned around from where he was standing next to me. "I don't want this to end any time soon, and you're not going to turn around and act like a douchebag." I almost demanded it. He just smiled at me, as far as I could see under the dim sky. After this cute little tirade of mine, something about his expression in silence made me suspect he said all of that just so I could go off and...and compliment him back. He got me all excited, just so he could hear me say true things.

"Alright then." Smugness. I walked closer to him and he lent his hand out. We started walking again, almost as if nothing had happened. I leaned into his shoulder, feeling closer to him strangely by the fact that he made me mad for a second, and whispered "I'm sorry". I think there was part of him that believed everything he said when he had the douchebag-moment. The only thing that seemed right now was to assure him I was crazy about him, even if it was in a different way than how he was crazy for me. I explained how fucking much I'd been thinking about him, as if correspondence with him determined my mood, and how I didn't know why. He was an anonynmous listener- he was like a living, breathing thoughtbox, and I needed one for a very long time. If everything else sucked, I told him; I still had an angel that knew all these things about me and admired me, and would listen no matter how trivial it was. When I had nothing left to go on about, he was in a happy silence. This guy had listened to my completely chaotic inner dialogues, voiced when I had nothing more to talk about in the theater. The kind of stuff that made it obvious I didn't know how to tend to this kind of relationship. But-  
"I've yet to grow tired of you." He says. I darted my eyes around a little.  
"You will. It just takes time."  
"You're lying to yourself. You're trying to be funny."

"So were you, earlier."  
"I meant it, though."  
"Well _I_ meant it too."  
"So then, you'll grow tired of me."

"Probably not. I already told you. You're the most amaz-"

"And you are to me."  
"_Stop it_." I squeaked. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to kick him in the shin. No more _nice_. He's the fucking phantom, not Raoul. Aghgh, but he liked me. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.

I hadn't remembered doing anything so nice in a long time. Not with anyone. I didn't know his name, although "Erik" was growing on him, I couldn't judge him by his age or his grades, or who his friends were. But these things freed me. We could act however we wanted. When we'd gone far enough, even started at the bridge, _from the other side_, he lent his hand out again, and I reached for it without thinking. This was when he pulled me into him and embraced me. He must have seen an out-of-body joy glowing in my eyes, as if I'd somehow forgotten, and he wanted to make sure to me he was just as real as I was. I got to hug him back, and it didn't seem like the one in the dark that had startled me. It was quick... I got the feeling neither of us hugged very often. My heart was pounding, and this time I really felt and noticed it. It pumped the reality of the situation back into me- that this wonderful evening after the autumn plays was the product of irresponsibility. It made me remember all those things from Lily's world again: of the last day of school before Thanksgiving break being tomorrow, of my parents, who for all I knew, came to my door for one reason or another...It took me until then to realize they could be scared out of their minds. I was tired. Forgot to tell tell Mariam, didn't leave a note... I just left like a typical dumb-ass teenager.

"I think I...need to go home now." He seemed to understand without explanation. I was never good at hiding my worry.

He held my hand again and we crossed the bridge.

We went a different way- without words, we both agreed that one trip through the forest was enough. The strangest thing happened. We ended up on a completely foreign street to me, where we took a bus back to school and sat next to each other quietly in the back. I was feeling nervous then, but he had some sort of charming spell on me, even if I wasn't sure if I liked him yet... So, I held onto his arm and clutched to the stranger's fingers. The contact made him calmly satisfied, up until we stopped and stepped out by the school.

I wondered if when we walked by, there would be anyone there to see us, to see him, and maybe recognize him. But I had to've been kidding myself, because when I reached the kitchen, the lights were all out, the furniture in the living room was vacant, and the alarm clock in my silent, untouched bedroom, read 11:09.

He walked with me until we were standing a few houses down from mine, gave me a smile, something in it that said "thank Jesus this is going so well", and we started in opposite directions. With a face that ached from all the instinctive smiling, I came down the driveway almost forgetting the kind of shit I might've been in as soon as I walked through the front door.

Anonymity did weird things to a person.

Nighty night.


	14. Chapter 14 Total Dumbass

HE'S THERE

Chapter 14 Total Dumbass

I looked down to my sketchpad. It was blank. I looked up. Mrs. Yue was giving me a nasty glare. Kidding, Mrs. Yue would never do that. But she was looking at me, and once she realized I noticed it, she came right over and leaned into the table in front of me. My eyes focused on the flowery print of her skirt. I found its length distasteful. "How're things going, Lily?" I shot my eyes away from the skirt and smiled labouredly at her.

"...Swell." I nodded really convincingly.

"Having trouble with a topic?"

"Yeah, that must be it."

"You know, first period didn't like the prompts much either."  
"Heheheheh." I hated small talk. She stared at me for a, at least it seemed, very long moment, really not realizing how creepy it was.

"What's on your mind?"

"A mysterious guy that ran away with me last night." I stated bluntly. She tried to hide a grin but bursted with short laughter.

"What?"

"What."

"That's very clever. It'd make a good picture."

"I'm serious. It happened." She smiled and nodded.

"Well, uh..." She stood back up and crossed her arms. "I'll leave you to your work. But if you're really stuck, you can flip through some of my art books." I raised my eyebrows with fake benevolence, then sunk back into myself.

I should not have even come to school today. The last days of anything were never productive. But my mom had a day-off, there really was no way to stay home and fake being sick or something. (She was good at sniffing that shit out.) Sometimes she'd go down a list of how great I was. "You're smart, you're funny, you're creative, inventive, sharp," and then remind me that she's "me x10" so "don't even try." She really was. I honestly think I'm gonna look, sound, and be just like my mom some day. Minus the secretary part. I think I'd undergo psychosis if I were in an office building long enough. Probably die of heat stroke or something, all up in my mind. That's how much I hate stuff like that. Some say it's good. Others say I need to stop living in a painting, or a movie, or wherever I hide when the world gets too real. I don't think that's how I am. I think I have a good handle on reality. I know how to maturely and rationally deal with things in the real world. Furthermore, I have realistic dreams. I know I have an escapist side, but I get annoyed when my parents, or Mariam, or whoever...tells me I have a problem with it. They know nothing about how my mind works. Same with how I come off at school. Mariam told me once that a lot of people think I look unwelcoming; unapproachable. Like I hate people and will lash out with fangs and claws if they try to start conversation. It isn't true. As a general whole, _yes_ I hate school. Yes, I hate many types of people. But when it comes down to specifics, I give nearly everybody a _chance._ I _am_ friendly. I would never be rude to a stranger unless they brought it on. I've just grown to mind my own business. I'm naturally quiet even if a million things are going through my head, so for God's sake, stop acting like it's weird.

Wow, I have no idea why I just went off on a rant. That stuff hasn't been inside nearly as much since I'm getting more used to talking about my feelings out loud. Right then, I wished I could get up, ask to go to the restroom, walk outside to the railing and have some way to call the Phantom on my cellphone. Then I could let him know that I, out of personal amusement, "admitted" to my teacher I had him, even if she didn't take me seriously. And honestly, I found that kind of annoying, even though I was glad. I almost..._wanted_ her to react how she should and take me seriously, to question me, to be amazed, to feel like a student of hers has this...fascinating...secret...world. I tried to think about this thing we had going on, from the outside... wondering if it was even meaningful to anyone else. What if I was Lily before this happened, and...I don't know. I met Paulina, this new girl, and _she_ was the Christine. Would I be so jealous and curious? Yes, but I'm a phan. Okay, lets say I met Paulina and she had a secret life roleplaying...uh...Star Wars, with someone.

Yes, I honestly would be pretty intrigued.

Not because I like Star Wars (honest to God: I haven't seen it besides part of the first, and Anakin was hot...)

But because soaking in fictional worlds with other equally interested people is... cool.

Plus...I don't know, this was getting real to me.

I've never hugged a guy.

They're much bigger than girls.

I felt instantly drawn to him... perhaps because most of him was covered up. I grabbed his fingers and held on to his arm, but had no idea what kind of arm or hand was below the sleeve or the glove. And I didn't have to find out, either.

Well, if it helps, he had no way to hide his hair or the lower half of his face. If I may say so, his hair was delectable. I don't know why it was so long, but everyone has their preferences. The lower half of his face...being a good demonstration of his skin, was very pale and seemed pretty clean. (Hey now, most guys have a lot of acne at my age.) Not that he was my age. I don't know. Maybe he was 18. ...19? No. 19-year-olds don't go to high school. Unless they're super-seniors. You never know... this guy hates school and probably doesn't apply himself. Okay this is straying from the skin issue. But seriously, all in all, he was not unattractive, perhaps why I wasn't very scared to be close to him, although obviously in moderation since we're strangers.

Anyway, I wanted to call, but right now, the only way we could communicate was through slow-ass email.

I rose from the chair.

Slowly approached Mrs. Yue.

She looked at me expectantly.

"May I use the restroom?" She nodded. I lazily strolled out the door, then when the corner hit, I dashed down to the library. (Hahaha, wouldn't it be funny if the Phantom was there and saw me running around?! He'd be like "word.") I swiftly slid over a computer chair and logged on to my account. I hated how the internet took forever to loud at school. I reached my inbox and totally missed an unread letter while rushing for 'compose' and clicked back. Ohhh, it was from Erik.

_**We need to talk. Today.**_

...

Well, that was a little pushier than usual. I clicked reply.

_Hey,  
I was actually hoping to meet you today anyway. I'll try to be there the same time. Forgive me if I'm a little late, I have to squeeze an excuse in. _

_Christine._

I was out of there faster than I came.

- - -

Giry was dying to know how it went. I passed her in the hall but it really wasn't an appropriate time so I said I'd call her when school got out, or a little later. By the time I was walking back up the hill to the theater, I flipped my cellphone out and thought about calling her, but I didn't think there'd be quite enough time to go into detail, so I stuck it back in my coat.

I sort of hurried into the auditorium, flinging open the doors at the back of the chairs. The sight froze me. He was sitting at the stage, his back turned at me. Seated in a tall chair, surrounded in the backstage props. A collection of red and gold furniture spread across the panels, a long table, wooden chairs, rugs, candle-sticks, silverware; everything. There weren't any stage lights. Had it not been for the startling amount of stick candles, this greatly illuminated setting would've been pitch black. I excitedly trotted down an audience row and headed up the steps. I figured I might as well pick a chair and sit down. He looked like he barely noticed me, even if I was in the corner of his eye. The head of the table at his side was covered in papers, scattered out like he couldn't organize to save his life, and had been tossing bits he didn't like over his shoulder before I got there. I tried not to look at him too much, I just wasn't used to it. He seemed to flinch himself out of a thought and turned in my direction. "How was school today?" Hah.

"It was repulsive." He smiled a little. I tried to sink into Christine. "Fridays aren't very productive."

"Says she who's never productive."

"Hey!" I leaned back in my chair and gave him an annoyed glance. "You have some nerve speaking of my agenda outside the opera house as if it's nothing."

"Says she who has already called it nothing, I'm merely agreeing with her-"

"Then teach me something!" He paused in surprise.

"I intended to, today." I straightened my posture and anticipated. "But I'm not so sure what."

"Must mean you're packed with interesting things." He stared at me a while, then a tiny laugh escaped his exhale.

"Why don't you teach me something first."

"What, about being a 17-year-old opera singer whose classmates, parents, and by God, _friends_, don't understand her?"

"I find you easy to understand." I stood up. Some odd creative note had hit me.

"Don't insist you understand me." I sat on the table, over a few of his papers. "You might be cunning enough to lure me into your lair, but you will never know what I'm thinking, or how I really feel about you." I squinted my eyes and I turned my back on him, crossing my arms and settling my eyes on a burning candle.

"But I do know. Isn't that funny?"

"If it helps you sleep at night." I tried desperately to hide a smirk crawling up my face.

"Well...I was going to let you have it your way today." He calmly informed me, still sitting in the chair. I continued to stare into the flame.

"How?"

"You said you...wanted to see some of my writing." I turned around rather quickly with wide eyes. He beckoned for me to sit down, so I took the chair next to him eagerly. "After I took you back last night, I went through a lot of works trying to find an appropriate specimen. I was up rather late."

"Why so picky?"

"A writer_ should _be picky. Unless they're not really a writer." He made me ashamed. I wrote poetry that barely mattered to me, and here he was, desperately searching, just for one or two things to meet my eyes.

"Well... what do you write?"

"Format, you mean?"

"Yes."

"None, really. Just an idea I think about, however long it takes."

"What's the longest idea you've ever had?"

"Sixteen pages." I nodded a little.

"That's impressive. You must have a high attention span. What was it about?"

"Heh, I'm not sharing that piece with you." I averted my eyes and bit my lip. He shuffled the papers together and then abruptly stopped. "Have I written about you before?" I perked up. "Yes." I darted my eyes around.

"Hey, I've written about you too. Once. I wrote a poem. It was about how mysterious you are." I think he was trying to hide a smile of sorts, then it faded away. He stood up and put the other papers on a dresser behind him. We both waited for the right moment, and he continued.

"This is short. Any longer, and I'd feel uncomfortable." He handed me a scrap of paper. I immediately started reading it.

_When the world loses its pigment, you repaint with the color in your arms. _

I raised my head. I didn't get it. He just stood there, looking like he might want to try explaining for once. Then my cellphone suddenly went off. We both eyed each other before I scurried to my coat at the end of the table and checked the screen. Giry. (Yes, her name was 'Madame Giry' on my contact list.) I turned off the ring and put it back. "I'm terribly sorry..."

"It's fine..."

"It was..." I held the paper in my hands and read it over again. "A very interesting word choice."

"Thank you." He looked like he really wanted to snatch it back from me and not even talk about his writing anymore.

"Is that all?"

"For now..." Oh, balls.

"...I should've brought that poem about you."

"I'd like to hear it." I smiled.

"Okay, next time." I came back over to my phone, this time deciding to turn it off all together. Giry's call reminded me about that little confrontation he gave Meg. I froze and glanced at him. I knew I had to get her off the hook. The only way was to just admit that it was me.

I wished I'd been there to see it, at least.

I really didn't want him having anything to do with her, I suppose.

I dropped the phone back into the coat pocket, then kept my distance. "I need to speak with you about something." His black eyes darted to me. "I...don't want Meg to get the heat for this."

"For what?"

"For something that um...you thought she had a part in, when she didn't. She didn't ask that girl to look out for you. At all. She actually takes you quite seriously." He seemed surprised that I even knew about her. "I...asked myself... would she...tell him everything. Would she...try to answer her own questions..."

"What are you saying?"

"_It was me_." He was silent. "I wanted her to help me find out about you. Not a lot. Just...I was using her as my eyes."

"Why needed? You had enough of them to read I wanted this to be exclusive."

"... I know you did. But I didn't think you would even find out. She was just my support."

"Wow, I never realized I came off as such an idiot." I stuttered a whole lot trying to think of something to say.

"I-I-I clearly don't think you're oblivious. But...well...she was pretty inconspicuous."

"Not to me."

"...What?"

"I think it would save you both a lot of time if you assumed everything you did would be figured out."

"...I-I'm sorry? I knew it wasn't a good idea. I did it anyway. I was too damn curious." Ok, now he seemed offended. "I'm stupid, okay?"

"You can't play stupid with me, I know how smart you are."

I paused. I had played all my cards.

"Then what can I do? I feel guilty. Can I make it up?"

"I'm not sure yet." He turned his back to me. Ohhh, did I feel like a stupid, inconsiderate retard who had just ruined a nice day, right now.

"I...seriously...I didn't intend for her to..to... Anything she knows is just what I told her. And I clearly don't know very much. We were putting our heads together. She was making guesses. I'm too curious not to. She just...talks to me about it. It makes me less nervous. She doesn't intrude." His response was stalled.

"We must have entirely different definitions of 'intrude'." I retracted and trailed my eyes along the floor. He seemed to be thinking for a little while before he turned around again.

"I'd like you not to see your friends this week."

"...Pardon?"

"You asked if you could do anything. There's what you can do."

"A-A-Am I allowed any kind of communication?"

"Sorry."

"Is there any strategy behind this?"

"Possibly...Nothing to go over if it's your loyalty I'm trying to figure out."

"You're mad at me, then."

"No." He came up to me and held up my coat. "Most certainly not." He carried it down the stage steps and to the doors. I followed him in confusion to the lobby.

"...You seem like it."

"I seem a lot of things." He had too many good points. He opened the doors. "I have some plans this evening. I'll see you another time." He held the coat up and I awkwardly slid my arms in it.

"If I might ask...what are your plans?" I looked out to the street. Was I being kicked out?

"You can't ask."

"Okay. Then yes, I'll see you..." I took one step out and the door shut right behind me.

- - -

He made me feel really bad.

- - -

I sent another email and apologized. I kind of ended up spilling _again_ how much it meant to me that I had him and how I would never try to ruin it. I did not want him to let me go. I could've just proved that the girl he admired for two years was a stupid asshole. He could've decided "oh fuck this."  
I was on the computer all night long, reading fanfics on various sites to keep myself preoccupied instead of feeling bad. I didn't sign on to AIM. At like one in the morning, he replied to me. He said he was sorry too... Said he was having a bad day, didn't like that this topped it off, and didn't want to have to worry about us. Hey, I understood. And he even admitted that it wasn't a big deal when he thought about it, because nothing we did would bring us closer to figuring him out. Oh sweet Jesus.

I spent all Saturday morning watching T.V. and feeling like a complete loser, even though we'd sorta resolved the 'fight'. By noon, I was sitting in the hallway reading one of my dad's recipe books. I decided I needed to learn how to be a better cook while I was cooped up in the house.

Meg even called.

I had to tell her I was extremely busy and had to leave right that second. Then I hung up on her. I had paranoia that either one of them was gonna show up at my door. I didn't even know why I was listening to this asshole; why I was letting a stranger dictate my life! It was like I was grounded! It's just I DIDN'T feel like he was on my level. I felt like he was better than me. And I've never felt like that. I've always had a superiority complex, even if I turn around and admit that I'm a kid and I'm not special. It's hypocritical, I realize. I think deep down, everybody feels like they have the upper hand. Well some stranger, who a month ago was just 'the note-sender', had it.

- - -

The weekend went by. I got up the guts to at least check my voicemail, and there was one from Madame Giry sent all the way on Friday night, who must've still been very anxiously waiting for me to explain my night with the phantom. I felt horrible that I couldn't even do that, or even tell her _why_ I couldn't. Another was sent on noon that day, urging me yet again, and also mentioning that Meg thought I might be mad at her. The reasoning probably being that I didn't intend on telling her what I'd been doing, and had hung up on her the day before. Shit. Seriously, if this were ANY other time, there would be no kinks to work out with friends. Now I had shit that'd be sitting around until Friday. Damn you, Phantom.


	15. Chapter 15 Emotional Rollercoaster

HE'S THERE

Chapter 15 Emotional Rollercoaster

_"r u mad at me" _

This morning, there was a nice little assortment of text messages on my phone from both the Giry girls. This would not even be happening if it weren't for the roleplay, I realized. Now that there were interesting things buzzing about, we had to keep communicating. I wanted to reply. So. Bad. For a while I thought I was a very solitary person, but only because I took for granted and forgot the little exchanges that kept me from true loneliness. 

Aside from that, I'd actually visited the Phantom since. I sent a few emails and finally got an "okay". 

I'm starting to realize that the theater, almost like it's an aura or something, reflects his mood. He wiped out all of the props, the lights, everything, when I was there Monday evening. He wouldn't even let me near him: he was up on the balcony in the shadows. I tried going up the stairs but the doors at the second level wouldn't open. I think he just wanted me to be there, not to necessarily appreciate me. I brought the poem and read it, and he seemed to like it, or at least...I decided to take the soft "hm" he projected after I recited the last word as so. He was truly uncomfortable with me for doing what I did. It was almost like he was afraid of being exposed, even if she hadn't gotten anywhere with her plans. This behavior was beyond the fact that we were in a roleplay and he wanted it to be real: he must've been hiding something. 

Regardless, I let my thoughts stay put... confronting him about that would probably just make him mad. 

The only thing on my mind was that I'd been lonely and all by myself the entire weekend. He seemed indifferent about it when I mentioned, but curtly apologized, and silence followed. That was basically it, unfortunately. I went home kind of flustered. I didn't like the way he'd suddenly reverted.

- - -

I randomly remembered the writing he'd shared with me last Friday, trying to wrap my brain around 'the colors in your arms', and I had an 'aha' moment while I was stepping out of the shower. He was talking about blood, and I felt stupid for skipping right over that possibility. When the world lost its pigment, you repainted with blood. 

- - -

I had sat in my room and hugged my knees a little. I was not happy with the conclusion I'd drawn. Furthermore, I was worried. Of course, I knew he wanted me to figure this out, it was his way of slowly introducing me to an admirer I couldn't possibly understand. 

- - -

Why would the world lose its pigment for him? I don't know why he hurt himself, and I knew nobody else that did it. I left him email saying if there was anything he wanted to tell me, I'd listen and help him if he needed it. I was just Christine, I knew that. Whoever the Phantom was, I'm sure his life was a lot different than mine, a lot harder to deal with, and we've all witnessed that he isn't so trusting with me, about anything. But I had to say it nonetheless. 

Afterwards...

The only thing that made my brain a little more content was to post on Livejournal, where my friends could read my words, even if I kept it from being a message directly _to_ them. I just talked about how the break was going, and the boring stuff I'd been up to. I made it in such a way that there was no such thing as the roleplay. It got me thinking. Strange strange ideas, maybe out of desperation. I really wanted more witnesses of him, more words from the outside, more advice. I signed out and registered a new account, called it dazedchristine after a little exploring on thesaurus .com, changed around the colors, wrote a little information, and then stared at it. I probably shouldn't have done it. Desperation never lead to good things. 

Luckily, just in the nick of time, my mom saved me from continuing. I'd told her earlier without thinking that she could take me around the area and get job applications, and there she was, in the doorframe, smirking at me, because she knew I was doomed to the events that followed. I x-ed the window out so fast; I was in this lonely, confused, worried-for-the-phantom haze, so when that rush from the real world came, it made me all weird, if that makes any sense. 

Hunting for stores was embarassing, but I managed to get a good amount of applications, and hey, I was back at home filling them out in one piece, so I guess it wasn't so bad. 

This was yesterday evening, mind you. And the girls showed up at my door while I was on my second to last one, no doubt in my mind there to pry out the reason for my neglect. I literally dashed up the stairs to avoid it all. I could hear them down there, laughing to each other and asking for me. My mom had to eventually come for me, and I told her some lame excuse why I couldn't even see their faces. She didn't even need to tell me she didn't get it. Perplexity was smeared across her face. Soon after, the door slammed and the coast was clear, though. 

- - -

The second time I saw the Phantom was today. I showed up completely unannounced, because I'd been taking a walk out in the cold, hoping neither of my friends would turn the corner, and was inspired to, figuring "what's the most that'll happen?" He'd be...gone? 

I seeped through the unlocked door and sauntered in the dark to the balcony stairs. It was still impossible to get up there. I turned around lazily to descend the steps and he was clutching the railing at the bottom. It shook the hell out of me. We were in silence a painfully long time, the other expecting an explanation. Finally I admitted I wanted to see him and asked if he'd gotten my email. If he'd made a gesture implying 'yes' or 'no', I couldn't see it because of the lighting, but he uttered "this isn't a good time" and I became uncomfortable. I tried to remember he was just a person and took a few steps down. "I'm sorry, I know I should've asked."

"Then you continue to do what you know you shouldn't, is that it?"

"No." I didn't like these comments. They always made me feel like I was doing everything wrong, like I was an idiot. I reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up to the faint curves of his mask in the dark. "You're still mad at me." He was, I knew it.

"I'm just dissapointed,"

"I haven't talked to them, still."

"Thanks."

"...Well, what's going to happen with us now?"

"Maybe you'll figure it out soon." What! What the hell was that supposed to mean. "This really isn't a good time" he reinforced. I glared at him. 

"Okay.." He stepped away from the stairs and let me through. I didn't feel welcome at all. What the fuck had I done? 

He open the doors, and it was very weird seeing him in so much light. Splashed with it. I wasn't brave enough to look at him for long though, and I don't think he wanted me to. I stood on the porch looking downward. "Why're you suddenly acting upset again? I thought we cleared this up."

"I'm not sure what you want from me yet. So we'll find out at the end of the week."

"Alright. Goodbye." I tried to smile. He flickered..._something_...a smile, not quite. He closed the door and I stared right into it. Asshole. 

- - -

Fucking asshole. I said I was sorry. Why was he making me feel like such shit. Tchh. I think he was sick of me now. All that shit he said when we went out, that was all bullshit. What did he want from me! 

- - -

I started off being pretty angry. I even had tears bulging in my eyes, none that I'd let spill, because yeah right. I wasn't going to let a stranger make me feel bad. But then all that anger, which at least distracted me from grief, dissinigrated. If you can imagine what a pathetic retard I looked like, lying in the empty bathtub in my clothes with the door locked, trying to draw me and the Phantom running through flowers. I think he was going to leave me. It just seemed like it... It made me scared. It'd only been like a month or two that I had even known of him, but I couldn't imagine what it was like before, when I didn't. I thought over all these times with Mariam, at school, at home, sticking in that bit of information that Lily from the past could never know: that she had no Phantom. Oh, what 14-year-old me would have to say about this. She'd be foaming at the mouth. And then she'd be slapping me for pissing him off. 

Thursday was me continuing to mope. That is, until, I got a comment from Meg on Livejournal, sent Wednesday when I was too preoccupied to check my mail. "Hey, I don't know if you're mad at me or not but I have to tell you something." She started. "Your phantom followed us the other day. we were out by the park and we saw him. he didn't even look like he cared. I was freaked out, but paulina was excited, seriously. he just stood there, we tried ignoring him, then he wasn't there anymore, if you know about this let me know." 

The only thing that was a little conforting to know was that in a day, we could talk and clear this up. 

I woke up at eight in the morning on Friday. I don't really know why. And to make things even weirder, my first thought was "godamnit, I'm supposed to read five chapters of the Scarlet Letter during the break." Not only that, but I'd ignored plenty of homework in my planner, which I didn't even remember writing about until I was staring at the foreign words scrolled in my handwriting and getting jumpy. It was agony enough that it was too early to call Meg or Madame Giry, so for some reason or another, I actually found myself in the tub again, where I could concentrate, trying to read the book.

At 10, I txted Giry, who seemed surprised but informed me she was at work, and would be off at noon if I wanted to see her. I fervently said I did. Meg wouldn't answer her phone. I didn't know if she was sleeping in (likely), or just busy playing video games or something. 

I ran out to Giry's car before she'd even had time to get out. I saw her pulled up through the kitchen window and freaked because I had so many things to tell her. She stared me down with her hands on the steering wheel. "What happened this week?" 

"The phantom wouldn't let me talk to you guys." 

"...What!"

"Lets just go, anywhere."

"Okay we'll go to my house, Jesus, we need to talk about this."

She headed down my street and looped around to the main road. She seemed eager to know had been up, and I was going off on a long-string of words, briefing our night away from the theater, how he enjoyed the performances, how we had gotten closer (without mentioning details of that), and then Friday night. She was let down when I explained our conversation regarding her. 

We entered her house, both her parents were apparently gone, but she made us tea and led me to a cozy little living room and lit a few candles. It was the first time I'd been there. If I weren't washed over with explanations to share, I would've been appreciating it, but she sensed the urgency as well. 

"I don't see how he figured me out." She said.

"Well we didn't see him at the performances, either. Seeing isn't a sense we should trust much, don't you think?" 

"I still don't get it." 

"There has to be something you did, even if you thought you were alone, that made it obvious what you were up to."

"I know, and I can't recall anything." She contemplated and I stayed silent. "He really punished you for getting me involved."

"Well. Not really punishing. He just asked me to, but I have no idea why. Whatever reason, I thought I deserved it."

"Well still. I was the one that got caught. Maybe you should ask if there's anything _I _can do."

"No... it was me. I invited you. I knew I shouldn't have. He doesn't have to trust other pepole, but he trusted me."

"Well is he mad at you?"

"Heh. YEAH. He's pissed. He barely talks with me. I've been over there twice. He gives me short responses, no emotion, and I'm not even allowed to stand next to him."

"...Hmmm...that's too bad." I was hoping she'd help me feel better. "...Well...you did do something kind of bad... he's probably frustrated, but he cares about you, you know. He's gonna get over it."

"I was starting to think he was going to stop the roleplay."

"No, he's not. If he was going to, you wouldn't have seen him at all since you told him." She had a point. "Besides, you're Christine, and you're 17. It's INEVITABLE that you'll do stuff like that. And he's the Phantom, and the Phantom would be mad. How do you know on the outside he doesn't even care that much?"

"...Because he's really trying to hide his life from me."  
"You don't know that."

"Seems obvious."

"He likes you. It's not going to end this way." I smiled to myself. "He's probably just waiting for you to prove to him that you can listen." We spent another bought of time just thinking. I sipped the tea. It was a really nice taste. "I think I know what I did." She slowly said. I looked up. "One of the play nights, my daughter and I were in the restroom. We were...kind of...discussing him. Not for long. Just wondering how we could get you two together before it was too late."

"What were you thinking!"

"We checked the stalls! Nobody was in there!"

"I know you probably did! But. You have to remember, we can't rule any methods out. We shouldn't assume that he has certain limitions."

"Yes..."

"I mean already...somehow he knows way more than I could guess how. He's...he's." I started giggling to myself. Madame Giry did the same.

"He's good at this." She answered for me. 

"I know." 

"You like him." My eyes darted to hers. They were daring and gray, but I shook my head. "Yes you do." My attempts became more vigorous, but I couldn't wash that amused look off her face. "You listened to him! You're overanalzying all of this. You did what he told you to! For a week! You like him!" Those three words peircing the room in her loud excited voice really made my mind jump. "That is so cute! Christine really likes Erik!"

"Sh-h-hut up!" She smiled at me a while.

"If you say so."

"I do! I do say so!"

"Okay, so what do you want me to do? Should I stop being Mada-"

"No, don't even say it, _Madame Giry_."

"What?"

"He doesn't want you to go away, he wants you to stay with me. He doesn't think you can actually figure him out, and he wants me to be happy."

"Oh I see." She looked amused that he would think that. I tried to relax my tensed shoulders and sip the tea again. "Okay, then I'll continue to assist you, Christine. Just...with a more subdued agenda."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, kiddo." We sipped the tea in complete silence a while. Then the question I'd been thinking about finally seaped out. 

"...Why do you call me 'kiddo'?"

"...I'm not sure. I guess because you feel so young and naive to me, with this whole Phantom thing."

"I still don't get that."

"I know a lot of people. Like... you're clearly smart and mature, moreso than a large portion, but... you don't do a lot of things high schoolers do. You're a goody-goody. Guys confuse you. I don't know, it's just all so cute." 

"I don't get the 'cute' thing!"

"That's because you're used to yourself. Truly cute people don't see it."

"...You're acting like the Phantom. Did you know that?"

"How!

"...He says to me the same stuff."

"He's a good observer, then." I silently agreed. "I wish I could have a conversation with him about you." I perked up.

"What! I mean. Heh. You could never do that."

"Not even in the future?"

"...I'm really not sure. He barely shares things with _me._"

"Sooner or later, he won't be able to hide. You're gonna work into him. He's gonna get wrapped around your finger."

"Don't you mean the other way around?"

"Maybe both. I can already see it happening, and I barely know you two."

"Heh."

I stayed there for most of the afternoon. We just talked more to get to know each other, including about her photography. She said some time soon, she'd like it if I came over in my dress so she could take pictures. She was inspired to have a Phantom of the Opera collection ever since she met me, apparently. I was curious what they'd look like after all the editing, if they were to be anything like the cool ones on her Deviant Art page. Even though I usually dreaded portraits, I said I'd do it. Around three, she suggested I get going. If I were to see her parents, it wouldn't feel like she was Madame Giry anymore, I think was her reasoning. I had to get ahold of Meg anyway. 

She dropped me off and I planned on getting to aim and checking my mail as soon as I was through the door, but my dad was in the office, so I was literally pacing my bedroom, glancing out the window. It looked like he was too busy to get off the computer any time soon. I grabbed for the portable phone and curled up on my bed, dialing the numbers with my eyes half closed. I shut them completely as I heard the ringing. It was giving me a strange anxiety.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Lily?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where've you been all this time! Did you get any of my messages?"

"Yeah, I got them."

"Well-"

"I...couldn't reply to you. Or Paulina."

"Well I know, we've been wondering what the hell you've been doing, sorta."

"I know that..."

"..."

"..."

"Well! Why were you ignoring us!"

"...Uh. I wasn't..exactly... allowed to call you guys."

"...Oh...were you like...in trouble?"

"Sort of."

"..."

"It wasn't my parents."

"...Does it have to do with your Phantom?"

"...That's pretty obvious...isn't it?"

"Okay, well what happened."

"...It's kind of hard to explain."

"Huh!"

"...Eghh..."

"I'm not mad at you, just spit it out."

"Not talking to you guys was sort of...a favor that I did for him."

"..."

"I owed him. I did something stupid and he asked me to do him one little favor." 

"He asked you not to talk to us."

"Yes."

"Why would he ask such a stupid thing?" 

"Okay, Me- Mariam. It sounds like he's trying to take me from you guys, I know that, but it's not why he asked me to, he asked because I deserved it."

"Well what'd you do!"

"I brought Giry into this when I wasn't supposed to."

"..._Paulina._"

"Whatever."

"..."

"...What."

"...That's weird, Lily."

"You weren't there."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it _does_ matter. If you knew the whole story, you'd see why it had to be done-"

"Nope, sounds cuckoo to me."

"Okay."

"...It is. Don't get so carried away. Don't let him boss you around, Lily. You don't even know him."

"I'm getting to know him quite fine, thank you."

"Are you_ seriously _offended? Somebody needs to tell you this. I'm not saying stop seeing him, just don't let him do stuff like that. It's weird, that's the only way I can explain it."

"Okay, I called you to let you know why I haven't talked to you because I read all your messages and I care, and I didn't want you to be confused. I'm also available now. What I didn't call for was a lecture."

"...Right."

"I'll see you Monday."

"Okay, bye."

"B-" She hung up. 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heya. Nothing much to say here except I hope that it's getting interesting. I feared I was writing this story way too slowly to the point where it would bore some people that read it, expecting everything to jump way in for the extremes. My intention is to present it as...my terminology is "teenager chronicles", rational pace, to make it like a real girl's life, hearing her "journal" everything as if you knew her and it was happening. Of course it will become extreme. But that doesn't happen in a snap. If it doesn't bother you, then I guess my explanation wasn't needed! **

**I only got one vote on the poll on my profile. XD If more people would like to tell me their favorite character, please vote there. 3**


	16. Chapter 16 5038624401

**Author's note: I know this chapter is a bit short. For that I am sorry.**

HE'S THERE

Chapter 16 5038624401

I was the type of person that tried not to blame people for disagreeing. Some distant part of my brain was proud of Mariam for addressing things how she saw them and trying to give me advice. But she really didn't get it. And when I thought about it, it might've been my fault. Had I not preferred the idea of keeping this a secret, she'd know the whole story. We'd be closer. Well, I don't know about that, because no matter what, she's thought the phantom was creepy all along. I just wished it was my best friend supporting me instead of someone I'd met a few weeks ago, even though I was growing to love me and Paulina's friendship. Mariam was acting downright offended, when she could've just thought it was weird without saying so.

I did homework the rest of the afternoon. At least, some of it. Later, I was going to make pasta that night for dinner with my newly acquired skills. I kept in mind the stuff Giry said. They were all things I should've known, but I guess when you're in the situation yourself, you're blind to reason and instead lie in your bathtub feeling angsty.

I descended the stairs, unsure of where I was going. I wanted to go outside but it was cold and wet out, there'd be no point. Just then, Mom came hurrying out of the kitchen. "Oh! Lily." She had a stumped look on her face and was holding a piece of paper. She flipped it in my direction with enlarged eyes. "I found this on the front door when I was coming in." The paper read "**come now**" and was slightly speckled with raindrops. "I pulled into the driveway and I saw it up there. Do you know anything about this?"

"...No." I lied.  
"Maybe it was one of your friends."

"Yeah, maybe. Could've been Mariam, we've been teasing each other lately..." I took it from her as much like I didn't really care as I could manage. "I'd better call her," I said, then I went back up the stairs and stood in my room for a minute to pass the time. I came back down and told her Mariam wanted to hang out, then left with my coat.

He was either going to forgive me or drop me this time. If he dropped me, I wouldn't know what to say. I think I'd just go home and start crying.

I bowed my head and crossed my arms to avoid the light droplets of rain pattering at my shoulders until I was there. A light in the tiny little window on the second floor with the wooden design created a glowing image in the walkway. I wondered if it was the Phantom or not. I was kind of spooked by the thin black tree trunks surrounding the theater at night, but the side door seemed faster, so I curved around the building, the darkness weighing me down and the ends of my jeans dampening. One bright light from the back hall of the balcony, flooding down the center chairs, seemed suggestive enough that I was to come there. With tensed shoulders, I stood at the top of the stairs and started down the isle, halting when the door in the back wall rolled open behind me. His black figure sort of just came across the carpet under the lighting, his shadow stretched over my face. He was quick to speak. "Did you do what I said?"  
"I said I would listen to you." He said nothing. "Meg's mad at me know."

"Let her be."

"She doesn't understand why I had to do it." I continued. "I still don't either. I didn't even know how to explain it to her-" He looked repulsed at that comment. "And, she's afraid of you."

"I'd like it if you kept more of this to yourself."

"Paulina isn't, but-"

"We don't need to discuss them in here." He inched around me to look out the balcony.

"They make you uncomfortable?" I spurted.  
"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." ...Come on. Take that as good enough.

"Your friends are the ones under my control." He flatly informed.

"If that were so, wouldn't you let them in on this?-"

"-No."

"Why did Paulina ever matter then?" This time, he full on approached me.

"This is about my trust in you." See, I knew this argument was coming along. It was what gave my week alone suspense without a name.

"Why are you so worried about that?! What do you honestly think I'm going to do?! You know me well enough. I'm the one that has no idea who you are, and YOU'RE worrying about trust issues?"

"You have no idea what it's like, on the other side of this, Christine." The comment made me really consider it, but it still didn't ease my frustration.

"But that isn't my fault. That's your own." Now he was the one that looked in thought. "You want to know something, Erik? I came here half-expecting you were going to leave me. Who knows, maybe you still are. That's how broken your communication is."

Men. Men and their communication problems. I was always going way over the top to express how I felt, and he was a basket case.

"You don't know what it's like to pursue someone so far away from you." He insisted, again.

"Will you please stop talking about this pursuing stuff? I'm not far away." I shook my head amusedly. "I'm right here." I pointed to the carpet. He just exhaled loud enough for me to hear and stared at me. "I know what the problem is. I think, anyway." I tried to make a smile appear on my face. Not a sincere one, one to try steering away from this frustration, to provoke a different reaction maybe. Something. "I don't... I don't _want _you to feel however you have for two years...I want you to be the Phantom! If anything, _I_ should be worried about our stability. I should be the one that doesn't know if she'll still be important the next day. Any second now, I could say something..." When I was fully in front of him, he started working around me to avoid me coming any closer. I turned, following in the direction he was retracting. "I-I could say something that'll totally destroy whatever...perfect...-which by the way is not true-, image of me and then we won't speak again, because I was an idiot. And I'm not special. And the fact that you feel unstable, about..." I turned my back on him when I felt he was coming nearer.

Oh God, no. What I was thinking right now, _just no_.

"Do you really not-..." He stopped mid-sentence. His figure that had been looming over my shoulder slowly retracted into the dark. I turned around to absolutely nothing. Where did he go.

"Erik." This was actually making me emotionally exhausted. I didn't like showing my weaknesses. I took a few deep breaths and slid down into a chair, glancing at the stage. "Erik." I repeated with slight exasperation. "I'm being honest here. You can think whatever you like. But you're wasting your time worrying about someone that has nothing to do but trust you. Nothing." My voice echoed throughout the devoid theater. I turned in the direction that he'd disappeared to no avail. "I think I haven't done enough for you, to prove why I deserve this, either. I just wish you would forget when I was skeptical, and what you thought of me before we met. I'm really going to be better than that, if you just forget about what happened."

I stood up, thinking he must've just left, and if he had, that kind of hurt. He didn't even say he forgave me. Madame Giry was right, I _had_ to work into him, because I couldn't take this confusion anymore. I was not going to put up with it! If he'd left me, I was turning this entire theater upside down, leaving nothing to the imagination, in order to find him and get a straight answer. This wasn't going to be unfair as of now- I felt his hand on my shoulder, a thing so sudden, it completely crashed my train of thought, and I was mindlessly leaning into the top of the chair, letting a great shadow enclose my shoulders. I instinctively held the wrist of an arm across my front. "_What_ happened?" He whispered into my ear. I was remembering how I never thought I needed to worry about what kind of hand or arm was below the fabric, but that seemed questionable now.

Talk to anyone I know and they'll say I don't like being touched, but I didn't want him to let go at all. He started to after the moment got a little long, but I clutched his wrist, and that drew him back.

That was the first time I truly felt free of that week long curse...

He had kept track of me that whole time, I know that. I felt like I didn't deserve him, and he felt like he didn't deserve me. We still had trust issues to work out, but I'd at least succeeded in this one little test.

_What_ happened? Nothing, Erik. Absolutely nothing has happened, except you have fascinated me and accepted me even though I'm such a confused little idiot. And...I think I've shared with you our little moment enough, you prying ass-hat._  
_

- - -

I called Meg's house a couple times later in the night but she wasn't answering. On Thanksgiving morning, I tried again and got an answer. After some awkward starts, we had open communication. I couldn't explain what had happened any better now that I was asked to keep things more to myself, but we had a long enough conversation to establish that I should be trusted to handle our relations however I saw fit, and no matter what, I could stop the entire roleplay if I got the wrong vibe. What I didn't tell her was that the Phantom had given me plenty of creepy vibes, I just tolerated it.

Somehow the conversation steered back into normal things. A lot of time flew by as we caught up, then I was forced to get off the phone and start getting ready for company. My aunt, uncle, and cousin were driving up from Albany to go out to dinner with us. As you know, my dad didn't want to cook outside of work, and my mom wasn't so sharp at it, so a nice trip to The Keg, a restaurant I enjoyed very much for its bread, sounded nice for all of us. I wasn't too thrilled about the relatives. My uncle was kind of quiet, almost like he was too nervous to get to know me, my aunt was my mom's sister, so we were a little more friendly with each other... and my cousin Jordan was only four. Bahah. So if you can imagine, we didn't have much in common. They just happened to be family that lived rather close to us and came up every year for this sort of stuff. Back in Colorado, we had our next-door neighbors over for Thanksgiving, with their four kids around my age. We had so much fun together.

When they arrived, I was sitting on the arm of the couch as they conversed, playing with a necklace I'd found from the back of a drawer in my dresser and decided to wear. I just suddenly started dwelling on Colorado again. I used to be outside all the time. It was almost never as gloomy as here. Besides summer, spring was nearly year-round. There was this field outside my middle school where Mom let me go wandering while she talked with a few others, and I remember stealing these yellow and blue flowers that grew behind a fallen log near the bushes.

When I moved here, my skin had a vibrant tan. Now the skin popping out of my purple sweater was pasty.

Ah well. No use going into that further. We left for dinner, and all I basically did was watch the other tablemates as they spoke and periodically reach for the bread. I was barely hungry for dinner. I really just wanted to get Thanksgiving over with as fast as possible.

Aunt Ramona asked me how school was going. Why do all relatives ask this? Adults seem to think kids breath school because they happen to go to it. I was tempted to say 'good, how's work' but didn't. Luckily, the attention quickly shifted away from me, and I was able to do what I loved when I was out with family: watch other people.

In the middle of it all, my pant pocket vibrated from my cellphone. A bit awkwardly, I slid it out and tried not to let the light of the screen become visible to my mom from under the tablecloth. I had a new text message; my first thought was Giry was contacting me, for one reason or another. But it very concisely read:

"**tonight**"

It was from 5038624401. I darted my eyes back to the table. No one seemed to notice I was preoccupied. It was the Phantom. I don't know how he got my number, but there he was, text messaging me. His interference with my family was kind of discomforting. I questioned him and stuffed the phone back in my pocket. For the rest of dinner, I kept expecting the phone to vibrate with a reply but it never happened. We drove back home, and I admit to being anxious, but trying hard to settle back and realize we had done this before and could do it again the same way. The only difference was, it was getting rather late compared to our typical meeting time, excluding the night we ran off to Portland. If he wanted me over there that night, it really seemed impossible, especially with my parents breathing down my neck.

When everyone was back, settling down in the living room, I hurried upstairs to my room and shut the door, then huddled up in the corner and took out the cellphone. It took quite a few rings, but Giry eventually answered. She was in the middle of something, so I felt bad for asking if she might pretend to invite me over, but she agreed to swing by and drop me off at the theater.

My parents, Mom in particular, were kind of overwhelmed when she came to the door, but we headed out like it was nothing and I said I'd be back in a couple hours.

The car ride was filled with stifled laughter on Giry's part. It was completely black outside, and I was going to see a stranger. She stopped in front of the building with the same bright light on the top floor and before I could dash off, she pleaded for me to wait. "Be careful, please." She was actually warning me. I was kind of taken aback. I leaned back in.

"Don't be worried."

"Still. Call me if you need me." My eyes sort of settled on her face half-heartedly. My brain acknowledged that her face looked a bit serious, but I was too excited to see him to think enough about it.

"Ok." I slammed it shut and wandered up the walkway. She watched me until I was clutching the handles of the front doors, inching inside and waving to her, then finally went off.


	17. Chapter 17 Denial Dissinigrates

HE'S THERE

Chapter 17 Denial Dissinigrates

The lit hallway greeted me when I turned away from the outside world and leaned into the closed door. To command I visit at such a time was weird, I agree, but... He appeared at the end of the hall and seemed to be getting closer without visible footsteps. I crossed the lobby, waiting for him to speak.  
"I've had contemptible behavior and I apologize."  
Like his time was limited, he quickly extended his arm and he led me by the fingers on my back into the auditorium. When we stopped by the front row of the center seats he swept around me and sat down, his hand gliding from my back to my arm, and softly clutching my hand as a silent instruction to lower myself to the chair next to him. It was kind of odd sitting in the audience, together. I tried turning to him, but to no avail. He still made me too afraid to look at him head-on.

"I want to explain something..." He began.  
"Alright."

"I've been dwelling on your claim that I have a communication problem." We were kind of facing each other but my eyes were focused on the carpet. "When you contact someone in such a way that lacks any stability or promise, it's nerve-wracking. I feel like I've uprooted you from your environment; confused you, bothered you. It no longer matters what you say to me, because I see the distress in your face. Then you lie to me. Then you try to discover my identity and share this with someone I don't trust, and whatever feeling I had that you finally belonged to me...shatters."

"I said I was sorry, too. But if you cared about me, you'd want me to try protecting myself."

"Exactly what I came to realize. Because I do care." In the corner of my eye, he sat completely still, and the hand on the armrest never removed itself.

"You know, we could stop confusing and hurting each other and actually get closer." I added with more thought.

"That's a brilliant idea." I smiled kind of. He waited until I decided on my own to rise from where I had shriveled into the seat, then met his finger with the bottom of my chin. This time he made it so I had to look him in the eye. It scared me so much though... "Have you been upset often?"

"Maybe." My eyes averted. Flashes of calling him an asshole to my bathroom wall came to mind. It seemed funny now, calling someone an asshole that just felt so unsure how to get my affection. His fingers brushed away and he shook the armrest between our chairs enough to send it backwards. I had no idea where this was going... He clutched my shoulder and sort of directed me to turn to my left and bring up my knees. Somehow I was just going along with it, pushing myself further away from my own seat until he was cradling me against him. I know a minute ago I'd said we should get closer, but um... not exactly...in this... Oh well.

I had my cheek pressed against his chest. I was just peeking out from his arms at the starts of the balcony at the other side of the room. I had never done this with anybody... so... bare with me...  
"I wanted to make sure I matter just as much as them." He suddenly said.

"Who?" I realized 'them' mustve been the Giry girls. "...You do." I thought a little longer, still trying to calm myself down. I knew my heart was racing. "You're all I really think about." I muttered. "Well not like. To sound creepy or anything, you're doing a pretty good job with that, but in the good way, I mean both of us are entitled to be creepy sometimes. I was just saying like... not ALL the time, but plenty of it, because there's too much to figure out, and I said you were amazing not long ago-"

"You're uncomfortable, aren't you?" I suddenly stopped having things to say. He started to raise me. "I'm sorry to've-"

"No! No." He stopped, then cautiously let me fall back into place. "I don't want this to stop, I'm just not used to it." I said awkwardly. He exhaled laughter.

"Then you'd like to get used to it." My face curled up in a grin and I felt embarassed. I think he saw that my cheeks were getting bright red. I wasn't being a good Christine. Christine would've been more embracing of the behavior, I thought.

I was being too awkward. I let my eyes close and tried to focus on enjoying where I was and what I was doing right then, even if it meant he knew I was enjoying it. It was odd, because I sometimes forgot he was human, or had the qualities of a human. I wanted to assume the warmth against me was just mine, sinking into something inanimate; something cold. But when I concentrated enough, I could even feel a heart beating into my temple. So unable to fathom that this person walked my world unnoticed, and that the girl that didn't notice him just wanted to lay against him and realize that. He didn't seem to be saying anything anymore. But then, neither was I. It was satisfying enough that we were both holding to what we'd chased for years.

We had small talk after that, for a while. I started getting more comfortable on his lap and he started running his fingers over my hair and...telling me I was beautiful.. It was weird. The only way to calm myself was to start arguing with him about why I wasn't. He would laugh and say in a very eloquent phantom way the equivelent of "you're full of shit", and then I just gave up.

It was disheartening, and difficult since I was getting tired, to remove myself from him, but it had been that two hours that I said I'd be gone. He was going to retreat to the downstairs afterwards, so he hugged me at the stair railing and told me to have a good night.

I know what you're gonna say. DON'T.. even go there.

- - -

My parents gave me weird looks for not being social and ditching the Thanksgiving "bash", but I could care.

I don't know what to say anymore. I've had days where I just stop and realize I'm living some kind of story. It's like.. it's like... "no, this isn't happening to me, I'm just reading about it." Except I'm not. But then when I realize I'm not, I slowly look around the room, asking myself what the hell am I supposed to do now?

When I woke up, I sat up in bed and started talking to myself. I think most of my comments were directed at this pillow that was sitting in the corner of the room. I didn't even remember putting it there, I just woke up, saw it, and accepted it as the only source to project my feelings upon. Oye. I was having just very absurd thoughts about Erik, about how we were now over that little drama and the last thing we'd done was hold each other in our arms. I don't even know how to explain how I felt about that. I felt good. Even giddy. I considered every possibility in which it could happen again. It still scared me that I didn't know who he was, but I kept on realizing that I still wanted to practically fling myself at him. Mariam was right. I had a phantom kink. When he touched me in any way, I felt like I was being electrocuted, in that nice fuzzy way with rainbows and unicorns. This was just wrong. I can't believe I'm even telling you this. I said the same thing to the pillow. Crazy shit going down, somebody help me.

The only way I could stop feeling like a flabbergasted storybook character, it seemed, was to actually start reading about one again. I hadn't been to the library in ages. I went over there and started strolling the isles. I saw this guy sitting at one of those study-tables and he actually turned all the way around and stared at me. Did he...did he know I was a part-time story character? Holy wow, what a creep. I sunk into an isle where he couldn't see me and widened my eyes, then kept looking.

I ended up on the floor somewhere in the teen section, one book under my arm, the other being read. I really liked it. It was called Woman in the Wall. It was about a girl nobody noticed, (don't ask me why the title has the word "woman".)

My whole afternoon, nearly undisturbed, consisted of reading that book (though, I stopped around the middle), drinking massive amounts of tea (the same kind Giry had. I called her and put it on my mom's list before she went grocery shopping that day), and reading the cutest little story I found while looking through Mariam's livejournal links. It was a Disney fancomic called When Curiosity Met Insanity. I'm too lazy to go into detail, just look it up on google if you feel like it.

Tea tea tea tea tea.  
I installed a green nightlight in the outlet next to my door. I engulfed the room in darkness (besides the November sky peeking through the blinds) and got so obsessed with staring at it that I started talking to it, about why the Phantom and I could possibly have done that. I had no answers, and I didn't know how I found this entertaining. "I really should do something... But look at me. You there." I stirred my tea a little as I stared at it. "You are the second non-living thing today that I have attempted conversation with. What is wrong with me? Do you know?" We paused. "You do?!" I felt like the Mad Hatter when I uttered that. "Well what is it?! Tell me!" It wanted me to croutch down so it could whisper to me. I licked my spoon, set the cup on my dresser, and got on my knees in front of the nightlight. "_...Yes? ...What __**about**__ the Phantom? ...I __**what**__? No. You mean it? __**That's**__ my problem? ...Well when did it start?! How do I fix it? Hm."_ I returned to stance and took the cup. "Fuck you, nightlight. I don't like the Phantom. That's bullshit." I left the room nonchalantly.

I liked the Phantom, by the way.

...

* * *

**Author's note: **First and foremost, I know this is an incredibly, absurdly, ridiculously, inexcusably, shamefully short chapter. I had an idea for what would happen before the next chapter became a sort of...different type of mood/format for the next parts of the storyline, and that idea just didn't end up being as long as I'd hoped. I wanted to show what happened that night, how it effected her, and what she discovered, without jumping into ANYTHING else, because as I said, it must be separate. I struggled for a while thinking 'what the hell else can I put in here", but... it's Tuesday and I can't put it off any longer. So. Yes. I know that it's only like a three-page chapter.

I have horrible news which I will post on Friday. For those who've noticed how inconsistant and busy I've been, this shouldn't be too far-fetching. But, that doesn't make me any less sorry. I'll see you guys in a few days. Thank you for reviewing, if you do. It means a lot.


	18. Chapter 18 Confining FakeChristine

HE'S THERE

**HE'S THERE****  
**Chapter 18 - Confining Fake-Christine

Ever since I finally admitted to myself that I liked the Phantom, I think he noticed. He became a lot more assertive, as I chose on my own to tangle myself in his web. I'm almost waiting for him to spin me up, to do what he pressumbly came into my life to do, even if it's unreasonable, even if he's creepy. I feel strange even admitting it to you, but for a while then I'd been in so much denial, and so much fear that if I stopped pushing away some feeling I recognized, that I was gonna go crazy. And...and...I shouldn't even trust him... But maybe you don't need to trust someone to like them. I was a stupid girl, inescapably attracted to him, and that was that. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was a bad sign to crush on a stranger. It was simply _the truth._

And I'm not going into any detail about _why_ I like him, because 1.) It's just not appropriate. 2.) I've never liked a guy like him before, not saying he's not a good type, more like, _what is_ his type, and whatever it is, I've never experienced it. Plus I've always failed to find long-haired guys attractive. You'll find that being around him makes that the least of your concerns, though.

I don't tell the Giry girls what we're up to anymore. I was sick of bickering with Meg, we'd just agreed to disagree at this point, and let life continue. Since the Phantom and I said our apologies and agreed to commit to our roles, we've gotten closer, to say the least, almost frighteningly fast, sometimes I think...

For a while then, we met up every day after school. He would leave me text messages during the day, alluding to areas of the school as if he was currently there. The few times it was convenient to search those areas, he was missing from them, so I think he was just trying to toy with me. Then eventually, he started doing something that scared the hell out of Meg.

One day, once sixth period was over, we took our sweet time leaving the building. Eventually we reached the doors at the front of the school and found that many of the buses had left already and just a few people were scattered about. I noticed a black umbrella, (despite no rain, though it had been snowing) and curiously watched its figure come to light as we descended the stairs. He stood there, in full three-piece suit and everything, with emotionless black gaps for eyes, completely glued on us, until I mustered the nerve to tell Meg that was him and momentarily depart her. Like an obedient pet, I stepped under the tip of his umbrella and looked up to him. It made no sense how he could show up here like that. I _know_ I didn't spot him earlier, and he was impossible to miss. The few people that were still out there were actually repelled by him and inching to the other side of the stairs. "What the hell are you doing here." I asked flatly. A faint smile curled. Dim black eyes darted in Meg's direction. When I instinctively glanced back on her, she had such a look of discomfort on her face, it made me freeze in uncertainty of what to do next. A second later, I threw out the first thing that came to mind. "Do you want to meet her?"

"Not really" was his answer. For some reason that really struck me. "How about we leave?" Without any further hesitance, he took my hand and led me past her, and I mimed a goodbye to her awestruck face.

She was unhappy with that incident, and truthfully, so was I, slightly. I asked that he not do that again, and he agreed, half-interested, before looking through my stuff.

He helped me with some of my homework, since he apparently had already sat through it before, and liked to know everything I wrote about, even what I drew on my assignments. The notebook was off limits. That annoyed him. I didn't feel bad though... He was the one that never shared anything about himself.

Even though this is really going to make me uncomfortable... Our encounters were more physical. It's not what you're beginning to think though, he just wanted to touch me more often now that he knew he could; to escort me with contact instead of stand at the end of hallways or up on balconies with locked doors. I allowed it. I can't stress that enough. None of it would be happening if at any instance I jumped and told him to back off. He was actually very gentlemanly about it, and he knew I was inexperienced with contact. I almost felt bad that he gave me so much physical attention and my stupidity on the matter left me standing with my arms crossed when he was anticipating something. He had skills, though. He had a way of gradually getting into it. Usually he went for my hands. He liked to hold them while I was talking to him, to run his index finger along the lines in my palm and across the veins in my wrist. He never ever removed his gloves, but I was getting used to their soft feel, and the way they subdued warmth. His touch never surprised me by being too sudden or light... It was like he had done such a thing all the time, or practiced it. Of course, I ended up getting comfortable, and... I wasn't satisfied that we were across the table from each other. I no longer wanted to work on my homework and talk, and we were two young adults who always thought of stupid temptations even if we didn't act upon them. But what we _could_ do, and what we did...was make sure we were close to each other at least once every time we met, because I enjoyed it more than I dared to acknowledge. He became more irresistible by the way he made me feel, even if he still had no name or age.

As for Madame Giry, Phantom of the Opera was always fit into our conversation, even if the roleplay encounters were mainly secrets. I preferred hanging out with my friends in one-on-one situations, so my life was almost bipolar. We did the Christine photo shoot... hardly anyone on Deviant Art cared... I know I just looked like a stupid girl in a pretty dress, and despite having pretty short hair all my life for many reasons, I started craving long curly tresses... Anyway, we did that, and I came by to chat a lot. It was traditional to light candles and have tea, and we really had no business going outside to walk anymore because it had started snowing quite a lot.

I have been physically incapable of admitting my affections for him to her, though. She knows. I know she knows, but actually saying out loud what I know she knows is just going way too far, and if she knows, then I'm not even going to bother with that step as it seems totally unnecessary! Notice that I ramble like a fool now that _you_ know my secret! But I feel like pretty soon I might have to admit it, all for the sake of having a straightening-out type of discussion with her, though.

See... If you can imagine, all I've been able to think about was him... It really sucks when you're trying hard to have a real life and then some _certain person_ seeps into your train of thought and you forget what you were up to. I almost burnt dinner the other night over him. I can't read. Everything I write ends up about him. My drawings are Phantom-related. (I've decorated my room with candles!) It's not that I haven't liked a guy before, it's just most of the time I suffer over it, you know? You just can't stop thinking "what do I do to get his attention" or "I need to tell him the truth, but he's so clearly going to reject me". You know, that stuff? Plagues your mind and makes you feel like an unworthy piece of crap? That was all missing from this occasion.

So, I've been this really weird creature called a "genuinely happy person" and whenever I stopped and realized that I was such a creature, I was confused. I wasn't acting or thinking like myself anymore, I was, the Giry girls said, like the Little Mermaid, humming and putting flowers in her hair. I'd thought I'd had my happiness on the down-low, but they knew better. Meg would say that I sounded all whimsical on the phone, more expressive with my voice if I mentioned anything that had to do with _us_, and noticed I was spending more time trying to look pretty. I will admit I've been wearing less depressing color palettes and more make-up. Just a little. I found out eye-shadow looks good. And I wanted to look good for him. I woke up only feeling eager to see him... to find some way to really make it as obvious as he has for me, that I like him...

But, as you may know, Meg and I are part of a ying yang friendship. Together, we make a pretty acceptable person. Apart, we are each side clashing with the other. I'm the dreamy one, she's the practical one. As I flutter about in my masked affection for who I roleplay with, Meg took care of the other reaction: she was scared for me, without ever saying... It's not that I didn't understand her concern. I really seriously _did_. But I started seeing the danger of him like it were on the other side of the mirror, like everything added up to be suspicious but he was an exception to the rule. Against what my brain knew to be true, I felt safe with him. Being with someone that cared about you so much, that thought you were perfect, for whatever reason you didn't know, and would do anything at all to make you comfortable... There was nothing quite like it. There was also nothing like having that kind of person and wanting them back.

Having the exact feelings that I used to explain why he mustn't be questionable just added to the problem though. Feelings solved nothing, and most importantly, they were feelings for a _fictional character._ They were for Erik, right? Not for who he really was. It's just that at this point, I hadn't the slightest clue where Christine ended and Lily began.

Our conversation in the candle-lit room, with our tea, started light-heartedly. When the words "I have feelings for him" were uttered, Madame Giry did not even flinch.

"And you finally find some kind of problem in that, right?"

"Yeah." I felt relieved to say. "I can't really tell you what we do anymore, but... we've gotten _a lot_ closer... and..." I took a few deep breaths, feeling awkward. "Physically closer. A-a-and... it's like... sometimes... even though it feels right when we're together, and I like him, and I just have these instincts... later... I start questioning everything that I did, all because I'm liking him...solely because of our roleplaying. Like I'm not even liking him because I know anything about him, just because he's constantly the Phantom. But that's not a good enough reason... and even if we're roleplaying, I'm still involved with whoever that real person is... and so I'm asking myself 'who the hell did I just do that with?'" It looked like she didn't know what to say, so I continued. "And there's no way to clear that up. If I bother him about who he is, which at this point, I just...won't ever know... he'll be mad again. And we already went through all that shit at the beginning, and then agreed that we were done, and we were going to do what we were supposed to do and stop with the questions. But... I just never thought that it would get like this. I thought he had more planned. Like you know, events. Even if I can't think of any for the story besides stuff that other people would be involved with. Like I'm realizing now... that he... just wanted to get closer to me and that's it, and I like that, but he knows exactly who I am. I know that he likes the whole package here. So that makes the objective of the roleplay somewhat obvious. So now I think 'where is this going'?" She nodded. "It's not gonna be just the roleplay forever. And I feel that by acting the way I do, and letting all of this Christine business seep into myself, I'm making a commitment to whoever he is in real life. And I'm scared about that, because I'm not committed to who he is. When I stop and feel like I care about him, I seem to, I... i-i-it's like I unknowingly assume that- that how he acts every time I see him is really him, just with a tint of Phantom, or something totally stupid like that. And he said it himself. He said in one of his first notes to me, 'We really are them'. That was him _talking_ about doing the roleplay. He thinks he's the Phantom. Part of him has to be shining in this-"

"Okay, slow down." She suddenly interrupted. I immediately stopped and stared at her.

"You talk a lot when stuff is on your mind." The comment made me gather my eye sockets in my fingers. "So in a nutshell...you're worried that this isn't a sincere enough reason to be romantically interested or involved with him, despite the fact that when you are involved, it's in a roleplay that's meant for it."

"Well... I guess I didn't think of it quite like that."

"I'd be more concerned if you saw him on the street minus the Phantom gear and just came running into his arms." Suddenly I was laughing. We stopped just to bask in the humor of that comment for a moment. "But. I understand. Uhm... you really...should be more careful about not letting your emotions get the best of you even if you enjoy his company. You have to remember that it's a roleplay."

"I know and that's the exact thing I haven't been doing. I let everything get to me. I don't know how much of this is real. There's no stable ground with our relations, no way to be completely sure anything means anything. That's why it's so ridiculous to have feelings for him."

"Ohhhhh Christine." She smiled. "It's not ridiculous. It really isn't. It's sweet. You have to have _some_ level of feeling for him or else, why are you roleplaying in the first place? You can harness your sensitivity though."

"But I really _don't know why_ I could let this happen. When it started, I was skeptical, I... couldn't allow myself to admit that even his first note really fascinated me... I get picked on for acting like that. Meg...always does this. Always laughs at me for being dramatic or idealistic when I can't help it. It's why I try acting like nothing means anything all the time. I wanna be stronger." Madame Giry was shaking her head.

"Well you don't need to hide that from me, 'kay? You're not here to please others, you have to be yourself. If Mariam's a good friend at all, which I think she is, she'll learn that she has to appreciate you for how you really feel. About anything." I sighed heavily. This was a discussion I wasn't in the mood to get into. "I do think you need to be careful with him, though. Man, have I been through a _lot_ of guys. They're hard to understand. Sometimes they're not sincere. Sometimes they are. But we end up crushing on all the kinds." A laugh escaped my exhale.

"Jesus Christ, yes." I fixed the ends of my skirt and leaned into the table at my side. "I don't know what type he is... Other than that little problem we had... he's good to me. You know? Guys are usually primitive assholes." She nodded amusedly, but we quickly put it behind us. "He embodies everything I'd hoped when I eventually found the right guy, but again, is it real... Does that sound stupid?"

"Not at all." She looked like she meant it, so I smiled. "But I gotta tell you something." I raised my eyes to her. "You know, when you have an obsesser..." the word made me at first feel I should disagree but I wasn't so sure. "He'll always be charming. He'll be the smartest, wittiest guy you've ever met. He'll listen to you for hours, about anything, and flatter you, and shower you with gifts..." She shrugged her shoulders in thought. "He'll seem like the perfect guy." I realized what she was getting at. "That's the point. They get to know you in their various ways, to find out what you want so they can become it. They put their best foot forward, and hide the other." I understood her, I appreciated her, but was left with nothing to say. I wasn't very thirsty for the tea, so I watched the reflection of a candle flicker in its surface. "I don't want you to think that... that I'm telling you your Phantom is a stalker and you should worry."

"I know." I quickly ejected.

"Just that you should be aware of the possibilities and not throw too much of yourself out there."

"...Do you think he's dangerous?" I cautiously muttered.

"...He could be." She reaffirmed a thought I always kept hidden but never wanted to face.

"And I don't mean to scare you by that. This doesn't have to be too good to be true. Just remember that as convincing as he is, he's someone you don't know, portraying Erik. Not Erik himself, no matter what he says. The same way you're Lily portraying Christine, and no one but that fake Christine should have the affection for the fake Erik." I nodded. _It was easier said than done._ "But that's why I told you that one time to be careful and such. If you do want to be more careful, I have some suggestions."

"What?"

"It'd be really smart to tell someone, every single time you go out to see him. And to text or something if you switched locations."

"Yeah..."

"You can most definitely let me know." Madame Giry was starting to feel like my _mother_, even though she was just a year older than me. She felt like more. It seemed so out of character that she went to high school like me, and had to deal with the same kinds of problems. But then again, maybe not.

"I would be totally fine with that. I mean why _shouldn't_ someone know. Anything could come up and no matter the situation, it's a big advantage if there's someone out there that knows where you are."

"Exactly. Even if he's not dangerous like _that..._ because as of now there's not a lot of proof that he is... I just really don't want anything to happen to you, no one would. If he lays a hand on you, I will come over there and kick his ass." She made me giggle again.

"He's not going to..." I hid my down-turned, grinning face with a hand. "But what if I laid a hand on _him_?"

"What? If you hit him or something?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sure you'd have a good reason."

"I couldn't though. He's a lot taller and faster than me."

"How tall is he?"

"Didn't we discuss this once?"

"Maybe, but I can't remember the details."

"Well I don't _know_ his actual height. I would guess six feet or something."

"How tall are you?"

"5'5"."

"Tchh. Heehee." She put a finger over her lips and smiled. "So he's like a head taller than you."

"_Why_ does this matter?!"

"I don't know, we just ran out of things to talk about."

"Lets not talk about him now."

I had to leave not long after this conversation to head to work, but I had food for thought. Oh! Yeah, forgot to say, in the past couple weeks, I got called back in for an interview at Baskin Robbin. I work at an ice cream place now! No pun intended, but isn't that a cool first job? ... Yeah, I know I'm lame.


	19. Chapter 19 The First Week of December

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Back! Sorry about it being a day late. As some of you know, I didn't have a nice long week to do this chapter, I had 2 days after my laptop arrived, both which were plagued with going to work and made me very tired. I actually wrote most of this last night, but I think it may've actually turned out well. Also, I feel that in five months, my writing has changed a bit. Well, I hope you enjoy it. Updates every Sunday.**

* * *

HE'S THERE**  
**Chapter 19 – The First Week of December

Despite how vehemently I thought I was _realllly_ smart and was going to do everything in sync with what Madame Giry suggested, I ended up in a situation.

Things were going well one night. On the weekend, when I'd claimed I was at Meg's. Because of work, I could not visit him after school for most of the week, and the deprivation had us after each other whenever it was possible. I missed him a lot, so nothing we did together ever got boring. I returned to find out he'd stocked the bookshelf set up on stage with his own books, explaining this tiny little piece of who he was, even if it may have coincided with Erik. They were psychology books, mainly about illnesses. He said he loved sinking into personal accounts of schizophrenia, bipolar, split personality, to name a few simple ones that I'd know. He turned to me and said it was like nothing else in the world to discover how strange the human mind can perceive everything. How such strong feelings can be based on nothing that has to do with reality. I was looking him right in the face, captured by flat black eyes in the shadows of his mask. Despite complete realization that this statement unknowingly pertained to the problem I was fighting, I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more right that second than kiss him.

Did I act on that desire?

Well. Psh. _Noooo._

But my mind was fogged enough at the time for the decision not to seem as obvious as it is now. I just stared at him, knowing that I was giving away a thought process beyond the comment he'd made. So, keen as he is, he set the book on the shelf without averting his eyes and waited for me to say something. "It's amazing, isn't it." I half-heartedly uttered.

"What's amazing?"

"What you just said."

"What did I just say?"  
"...That you can have strong feelings about things that aren't real."

"It isn't always wrong," he insisted, some of the amusement I thought I'd seen, draining from his expression.

"It's not destructive," I added before I realized what I was saying.

"No. In fact, I find it quite beautiful." He muttered. He went for the book again.

"It's beautiful to be crazy?" He flipped the pages.

"Why can't it be." The way he said it didn't sound like a question.

"Because it can destroy a life."

"Can is potential, not implication." He remarked, much more strength in his voice. "I can rip the pages from this book." Despite mentioning it, I suddenly felt that the subject of such hypothetical ripping had nothing to do with the book in his hand. "Am I going to? No." He inhaled, and it looked like he might go for some example including me, but when his eyes darted around my body, he dropped the attempt. For once, I did feel uncomfortable. It was dark in the theater, and I suspected I'd struck a nerve in him. "What's wrong." Guess I projected my discomfort. I dropped my eyes to the floor and shrugged.

"You're right, that's all." I didn't really mean what I said that day. I felt if I didn't give him compliance, he'd... I don' t know. I don't know what I was trying to avoid. I guess ever since Giry and I talked, I keep rethinking the fact that he is not the Phantom. When I step into the building and we talk, and we're close, I don't think about any of that, because his personality is so strong, and I'm so strongly attracted to him. And I mean attracted like you can't keep yourself away from it; physically or mentally, or...emotionally.

But as I consider more and more that he is a guy with a life like mine, I realize I'm wrong in saying that, because his life had to have been anything but like mine. I think that it must have been a very depressing place. I wondered why he gave a damn about mental illnesses unless he was introduced to the subject through first-hand experience. Not that he had to be, but it seems to me that people would, for lack of better terms, obsess over a subject when they can feel it in themselves.

He was teaching me how to dance on the stage yesterday and whenever he had my wrists, he'd clasp my hand and make us lace fingers. For some reason that gesture reminded me of his almost nonchalant, symbolic mentioning of cutting himself and how he never responded to my email. My hands had been at every length of his arms, and to think under the cold black sleeve...white sleeve underneath... somewhere... there were scars, maybe even fresh red lines... I just didn't get it. And again, it's not something I can just ask about. I tried, insisted he wasn't obligated, and he took me up on that. He agreed he wasn't obligated and ignored my concern. But I just find it funny that this bit of writing is what he, no doubt, tentatively chose to show me, meaning he knew very well that I would discover this. It's like he wanted me to know, but only for the sake of knowing, not so we could talk.

- - -

_**You won't see me for a week. You'll be angry with me for this, but the reason for my absence isn't something you need to know. **_

_**You can reach me here and through your phone. Do not come near the theater.**_

_**Thinking of you, constantly,**_

_**Erik**_

**- - -**

It snowed hard Monday morning, so much that school was delayed two hours in hopes the ice would melt over the roads. I was so excited about the weather changes that I could distract myself easily from my lack of Phantom by having snowball fights with Meg in her backyard, and sucking on icicle Popsicles from around the roof. Well, all until her mom came out frantically and explained to us that we were licking frozen roof juice. Oh well... it tasted okay.

She seemed so surprised that I was spending all the time with her, the way I normally would have, and it actually made me feel bad. Since Giry was around, my decisions about how to distribute my time weren't so conscious. But... she said Giry was busy a lot more than I thought, since she actually had a car, and those...friend-type people... in massive numbers... unlike us. I loved going back to her, though. Something about our relationship had been a little flat ever since the Phantom pulled that whole "do not talk to your friends" thing and I, even if not in a mean way, told her to butt out.

I told her about the message, though. She also wanted to know why he would be gone, and gave that usual trying-to-avoid-rolling-her-eyes look to my frequently used answer of "he wouldn't say".

Madame Giry was equally baffled by the Phantom's sudden leave of absence, however. By Wednesday, she said she had drove down the road to the theater a certain ways and looked around every day since I told her and there was nothing out there. She decided that when she had time, she would look up information about who owned it and some of its history, if it was possible. She was smart in doing that. The Phantom had to know the owner. And the owner had to know him. That was where the extent of what I could find out about this guy got scary. _Because maybe I didn't want to know. _But Giry'd been busy lately, so since mentioning her plans, I'd heard nothing more about it.

Well anyway, the point I was trying to get to before I mentioned Giry is that, surprisingly, enough interesting things were happening without him. The most interesting thing so far was Thursday, during the break. We wandered into her Advanced Chemistry class, as she was, I believe I've forgotten to say, kind of a science nerd as well as a theater one. Which just made her even cuter, if you have ever seen her in a white lab coat, talking about things that I don't understand.

She looked off to someone else that was in the room early and then sat on her desk table facing me, swinging her legs and losing all her conversational skills. The size five black flats with checkerboard bows swished rather suspiciously.

"So, about that movie thing," I tried to continue. "I work tonight and tomorrow, but maybe on Saturday because my dad has the day off and he could drive us."

Somehow she looked embarrassed.

"I...could drive us."

"You don't have your license yet."

Normally, Meg would've shouted something defensive back at me, but instead, she crossed he arms and scrunched her lip under her upper teeth.

"It's okayyyy...I know you're trying."

She was unusually quiet. She looked a bit...hmrgh... I saw in her eyes the passion of a little kid waiting to get into Disneyland. She took great precautions to hide it, too, but I knew better. I leaned to the right and tilted my head to a person in their seat at the opposite end of the classroom, and she mirrored me. When I gave her a quizzical stare, she tightened her lips and didn't move. I bravely stepped away from the table she was sitting on and studied, without a care if he noticed me or not, the guy sharing the room with us. Tan, light brown hair, blue eyes, Radiohead t-shirt, going through a worksheet that I would assume was related to their class, and doing so like he actually didn't mind. Somehow I just knew.

I came back to Meg and she still looked uneasy.

"Let's go outside," she gave me a quick toothy smile and pranced out the door. I pranced out as well.

"Sooo, tell me the name of my future best-friend-in law."

"_What?!_ "

"I know that's him. Just spit it out."

" Him _who_?"

"That guy you lgh-" She covered my mouth with her hand and pushed me into a row of lockers.

"What's it to you." Meg tried to say this seriously, but her mouth tensed into a smile and we were laughing at each other in the corner of the hall. When it died down, she still seemed reluctant to tell me his name. She probably suspected, and suspected correctly, that I was going to use it to make her blush.

"Well, what's his name?"

"...Hgghh."

"What?"

She crossed her arms and rolled along the wall so she wouldn't have to face me anymore.

"It better not be Herschel." Her shoulders shook in amusement.

" It's _Jeffrey_, okay?"

"What about his last name?"

She rolled back in my direction and leaned into my ear to tell me this grave secret. My laughter only grew.

" Awww. How awkwardly adorable. Mrs. Vanhorn." I took advantage of the fact that nobody was in the corner with us and did a little ballerina twirl, whilst whispering _"Mariam and Jeffrey Vanhornnnnn..."_

"_Screw youuuu." _

"_Ahahahahaha."_

" You think you're_ so cool_ because your boyfriend doesn't have a name and I can't make fun of him properly."

I would have to disagree with her coining him the term "boyfriend", but that was beyond the point. Just then the first bell rang.

"Uh oh, you'd better get back to your husband."

Mariam shook her head at me and glared in defense, then hurried off. Me, I had Art to get to at the other half of the building, but I wasn't much worried about being late. It just wasn't the type of class to hurry over. But Jeffrey... teehee...

Another interesting thing that happened this Thursday:

I saw the vested guy quickly departing the library, and he ended up walking just a few feet in front of me, his arm, with a black watch, dangling at his side. He was an attractive fellow, but by this point, I could not fathom how I ever thought he was the Phantom now that I was in that deep. I was 100 sure it wasn't him. He didn't have the build, the face shape, the height... nothing. And I doubt the Phantom would just walk in front of me like he didn't care, like that.

I also discovered that I preferred not having anyone at school to worry about being him in real life. I think if I put a name, a face, and a body passing by me at school to my roleplaying partner, he would become someone more than what my little brain had already, through great measures, conjured and I would be painfully confused with my feelings (worse than now, I mean.) But alas, Vest Guy went into C109 and I, to C104.

Third period, with Mrs. Yue barely paying attention, was usually when I swamped The Phantom with text messages, but I had been hesitant the past couple days, and his end was silent, so the few that I sent on day one of being ignored... slowly dwindled down to none, and I spent that particular hour and a half doodling, staring out the window, and trying to finish homework due later that day by putting it over my sketchpad and propping it forward with my knees so she couldn't tell that that was what I was doing.

- - -

Finally, that night, I cracked. I took my phone out just to stare at his name in my contact list as I laid in bed. No matter how many flattering things he said to me, I worried easily if I could bother him, but I was just so bored, I clicked on his name super fast and called the number – didn't text – _called_. It rang intimidatingly.

After every new ring, I felt more inspired to hang up before he would ever answer. I imagined wherever he was, and the fact that I was the cause of a disrupting sound from his pocket or his coat, and was doing this all impulsively. The other side clicked and there was silence.

Then his tired but composed voice answered "hello, Christine."

" Hi," I whispered back, with a smile on my face.

"_Are you lonely..._ "

The question, and the tone he used, erased my head of any thought for a moment.

"I just wanted to hear you. Even though I know that's really stupid, but I have now, and it's late, so if you were busy, then-"

He laughed over me before I could finish. Perfect, low laughter brushing against the speaker, over my paranoia. He was silent afterwards, though, and so was I. I couldn't even catch the sound of his breath.

"If it were possible, I'd visit you right now." He stated abruptly. It sent my heart beat up a few notches.

"Right...now?"

"If it were possible..." He repeated. "I'd already be outside your window."

I froze in suspicion. When he said nothing else, I rose up from my bed and flicked open a blind. I didn't think I saw him...

"It's eleven o'clock at night..." I reminded him, knowing neither of us cared.

"I like it better at night. Then you and I won't be interrupted."

"Interrupted doing what."

He chuckled softly again. I don't think he realized how much he was driving me up the wall. Because I wished he was out there, more than I should have. It was weird to be upset that there wasn't a creepy shadow of a stranger standing in the backyard looking at you.

"...I don't like not seeing you." ... "I hope you're okay."

"You don't need to worry like that."

"...Easy for you to say."

We were silent again.

"There could be a way."

I perked up.

"But you may not have the nerve to take it."

"What is it?"

"Tomorrow morning, at eight, but where, I don't know."

"The park... the walking half," I thought aloud.

"...I might be able to visit you, shortly."

"Okay."

I figured he knew I was busy afterwards.

"I'll see you, then."

"You're leaving me?"

I could have sworn I heard the voice of someone else. Male, not female.

"You need to sleep," he tried to say authoritatively. I glared at the wall in front of me.

"You're busy."

"Never busy enough not to answer to you, _Christine_."

I darted my eyes around and scratched my temple from under the covers.

"Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow. I can't wait," I said. I meant it, but it felt kind of weird rolling off my tongue.

"I can't wait, either. Goodbye."

"Goodbye..."

And he was the one to hang up on me.

I decided I would try not to call him ever again unless it was necessary. It's not that I didn't love to hear his voice as I was off doing normal things... as I laid in bed particularly... Oh, I did. I even thought about what it would be like if some day he ended up in my room. Weird.

No, it wasn't that. I just realized how vulnerable I might be to his outside life. That voice... I had never been with him with anybody else. It was like his presence brought privacy; silence; secrecy. This was nothing surprising really, but it was the first time I had actually made myself think about the fact that there are other people in his life and other people that know him. And know him differently, might I add.

But that voice was a male's, and that calmed me. If it were a girl, I would be uncomfortable and even jealous, which is a bad way to feel and as long as I could keep myself from experiencing that feeling, I would pretend that meant that I didn't have it in me.

- - -

There was a cloudless grey sky covering the park, at 7:55 in the morning. Everything as far as the eye could stretch was covered in snow, and steps imprinted along the walkway lead to me standing amidst dark-wooded trees, alone, cold, about to lower to the ground and clutch myself. I noticed as I swiped my running nose that there wasn't even wind to fill the silence of this dead, frozen place.

I thought maybe if I showed up on time, he'd have been waiting, but I was first there, and I had clearly not thought hard enough about what to wear. I just had a coat, the one I'd wear if I were walking straight to a heated high school, not standing outside for twenty minutes, in the first week of December.

I focused on the sparkle of the snow around me. It was really kind of beautiful when I stopped and realized it. I was a fan of Winter, not because it brought many good things for me, just because it was such a fascinating condition of the Earth, the kind most intolerant to human beings, so my concept of it was lacking their noise, activity, and...damage... Not everybody likes a concept though: all they see in Winter is shivering, icy roads, and stuffy noses. I had experienced all of these things on the way there, but it somehow didn't taint my admiration, even as I continued to shake like a mofo.

I walked a little closer to the outer boundaries of the park, to a stone wall overlooking town. It would've been funny if I could take snapshots of all the places I ended up at because of him, and all the funny situations, ambiguous though suggestive, and send them in an envelope to Lily of the Past. They would probably just confuse her and she would throw them away. I slowly turned to my left, thinking this definitely wasn't going to be the worst of-

I turned right into the towering black-limbed figure and twitched in fright.

"_HI_ ,"I uttered tensely.

I slipped my vision to the area behind him and couldn't make out any footsteps.

"Where did you- ... How did you do that?" My entire question was plagued with chattering teeth. He decided not to answer me and instead, slipped his arm around my back and clutched me tight. The cold air disappeared between our bodies and if I could help it, I was not letting go, because it was fucking freezing.

When I slid my face to lay against the side of his suit jacket, he lifted his fingers to move my hair over my ear. He probably noticed it was bright pink.

Then I noticed. This very... faint scent... of smoke, I thought. In his clothes. It seemed so out of place, faint as it was. I tilted my head up and he seemed to be staring off in space.

"How long can you stay?"

"As long as you can."

"That's fifteen minutes..."

"Well, savor it."

I turned my head to the other side and thought of what to say.

"So... we're finishing the Scarlet Letter next week."

He paused. Probably thinking to himself "we go five days without seeing each other, and all you can think to talk about is your godamn homework."

"A cause for great celebration," he finally voiced.

"Actually, that's what I was thinking. Meg and I are going to buy our copies and burn them in Giry's fireplace."

"...Ah, and why hers?"

"My parents think I'm absurd, and they won't let us. Her parents think we'll accidentally start a real fire."

"I would be careful."

"Oh come on, don't act like my third parent."

"You're too defensive."

I looked up at him again.

"You're... ...You don't think we should burn them? I don't usually burn books, I just really think this one will help society best if it doesn't exist. I also thought of burying it... _not_ holding a funeral... dishonor to them both..."

"That sounds better."

"...You could join us if you want."

"I'm not going to discomfort your friend anymore than I have. She stays out of my way, and I hers."

The mood of the conversation suddenly dropped.

"She's just being stubborn, you know. It has nothing to do with how you are."

"You're the only one that doesn't see how mismatched I am in your life, aren't you?"

"I don't care."

His left arm abandoned my back and he fumbled in the pocket of his slacks. He pulled out a charming gold pocket watch, chain included, and flipped it open, pausing to read it.

"I think you should go to school now."

I continued to bury myself in him, with my head against the bottom of his chin.

"It's 8:19."

"I don't want to go to school. I'll skip today; I'll say I wasn't feeling well."

"You don't need to do that."

"It's Friday. No one will notice..."

"I have somewhere to be."

_Jerk... _I thought.

He turned towards the rest of the park and sent me with him, forcing me to trudge along through the snow to the sidewalk. He let go of me and I tried to pout, but his face, er, shadowed eyes and mouth rather, showed no fluctuation, but I could feel him, almost intensely, insisting I walk away. So I just started going, feeling his stare burn into my back. Once I was far enough up the hill, I looked back and didn't see any trace of him.


	20. Chapter 20 Insane

**Author's Note: **I do not like this chapter so much. Obviously it's late, and mainly late because for a few days, I have hated the dialogue so much, despite many attempts to revise, that I refused to post it. What's more, I had no idea how to initiate this scene which needed to happen for some parts I have already wrote for the very near future. So, if it seems like a random scene, well... I'm bad at connecting things! :D Yayyyyy. Please do not hate me forever. :goes off in the corner to cry:

* * *

**  
HE'S THERE  
Chapter 20 – Insane**

Unsuspecting to the nature of my roleplaying partner, I let him clutch me in the corner of a study room at the library, Tuesday night. I felt kind of promiscuous, never seeing or hearing from him in four days, going off to do innocent 17-year-old girl type things, and then just walking into his arms. I told myself we were... well... what you'd call... "together". We just missed each other... we would have many opportunities once back at the theater to keep up with our talks, which was more often than not all that we did. That night I just really wanted to see him, touch him, realize no matter what life he had, he was mine in some respects...

It was awfully quiet there at 7:30, and closing in an hour. Earlier, I begged him to find a way to see me again through text and this ended up being our idea, last minute, and when I entered the room in the far back, he was staring at his pocket watch and darting his eyes around like he had come here at an inconvenient time. We couldn't seem to brighten the lights, so this meeting place, without windows and storing only a desk and a few chairs, was thick in grey shadow and I again laughed at myself for the kind of places I ventured just to be with him. He seemed faintly amused himself.

"This is what we're reduced to..."

"It's not a stage flushed in candlelight, but I think we will be just fine."

Those were the single two things we said before anything started. I laid my coat on the table and stood opposite to him as he dropped his watch back into place. He started followed me as I inched around the table, "avoiding" him as "best as I could", and not really so phased when he caught me and I was right where I began. For a second, I felt like any typical couple, running my fingers over a black coat I had never seen him in before. There was a certain heaviness to his left coat pocket. When I dug my hand in, I felt the spine of a book, but he seemed discomforted and lifted my arm, distracting me from the movement by curling the same hand around my waist. I lifted my face over his shoulder and decided to ignore whatever it was when something warm pattered onto my cheek.

I suspected it was a tear, instinctively; he was right above me, and though there were no indications that he was crying beforehand, it was the only conceivable explanation. But when I turned my face up to question him, he seemed alarmed. By me. And more, there was indeed something dripping out from his mask.

He just... stared at me. He knew exactly what I was wondering, but I wasn't going to say anything– I wanted him to speak first. He steadied his eyes on the area of my face where I could still feel the warmth, drawing his hands back and lifting them without looking to pinch the tip of his right hand. The glove came off as he used his index to slide along my cheek. I studied his eyes as they calmly calculated what to do with the red fingertip and it had me retracting back to the edge of the table.

He slowly touched the finger to his lips with his eyes fixed on me. Slithering past his detection, the red that escaped from under the cold plastic was still dripping down to his chin.

"You don't need to become upset-" he tried, like it was a simple accident.  
"I'm not upset. I'm just noticing that there's _blood_ running down your _face_."

He ran his hand over his lower cheek and fit it back into his glove. I knew that glove was stained, now.

"What did you _do_?"

We studied each other relentlessly for the next moment. He did not look bothered or shameful, only exhilarated over what I might say to him.

"I really didn't intend for that to happen," he finally interjected.

"For your face to be bleeding, or for me to see?"

"Both, I suppose." He pulled a cloth from his other pocket and turned away from me. If he was going to expose any of his face, I thought, I should turn away. I walked away from the table and crossed my arms, picking a place along the wall to lean so I could stare into the floor and wait.

"Are you okay?" His voice asked.

I couldn't think how to answer, so I just didn't.

"I've done a little too much today."

"I don't understand... sorry?" I asked to the floor. No explanation about how he had been hurt earlier, like it was common to bleed randomly...

"I came to visit you sooner than I should, after..."

"After what..."

...

...

"...I thought you only cut your arms."

...

...

"When I'm feeling a certain way, yes."

...

...

"...Wh-... I... don't... "

...

...

"...Y-your face?" His silence was enough confirmation. "You're serious."

"Please come out of the corner," he asked me. I hadn't realized I'd gone back that far. He tried to approach me but I raised my hand.

"Just stay."

...

...

...

...

"...You were in the bathroom that one time, weren't you," I sharply accused.

He was still a moment, then he flickered his eyes to the floor.

"Wow, y-..." I shook my head in exasperated thought. "I'm surprised you're not in the hospital after all the blood I've seen from you."

"You're becoming a little too dramatic" he thought, and thought wrongly, was appropriate to remark.

"You knew I would be."

"...True. But you had to know at some point. I guess now was it."

A faint pink smear was still over his cheek. I did not want his blood on me ever again. I could not accept that it had even happened.

"Why?!" I tried.

He didn't look like he had any further interest in answering the question.

"You don't need to do that."

"The damage is done... it's a part of who I am now. You don't need to be upset."

"I don't need to be upset?! Wow, must think I'm psycho if I wouldn't care about you..._ mutilating_ your face."

"I definitely think you would care... but... you must have expected _something_, right?"

"Expected something for what?"

"For why I'm wearing a mask." He spoke to me as if it were a completely normal discussion.

"_Because_... you don't want me to know who you are?"

He exhaled in a slight laugh again.

"That could be anyone's reason."

The moment he said it, the implications hit me like a train.

"**What** then," I questioned firmly, my glare stern and anticipating. An answer I felt I already knew.

"To feel more like myself."

My face froze in disgust. Suddenly, he broke out in laughter.

"Your reaction is even more priceless than it ever was in all my imagination."

"I'm glad. I'm glad that I can...be of entertainment to you."

"No... no... you're not entertaining... You're uncomfortable and it's my fault. ...I really didn't consider how much gauze to use before I came here. And I've done it so many times before... I was just so eager to see you."

I gestured as much as I could that I wanted him away from me, but the space between us kept shrinking by his initiation. I saw distance, even objectivity in his expression as he raised his arms to each side of the wall.

"...Why do I need to know this about you?!"

I glowered at him as he attempted to stroke my arms soothingly with his fingers.

"You agreed to visit the dark..."

"This isn't what I expected. You're crazy. Why would you do that to yourself?"

"We went over this, Christine... You told me you're going to _try _to 'accept' me... I say... 'you don't know what you're dealing with', and you... laugh like I'm being irrationally self-critical..." He clasped my hands and tried to remind me why I let him closer to me than anyone else. But the contradictory stimuli made me realize that it did not make me safe.

"But you're scaring me."

...

...

...

"Haven't I already scared you many times before?"

"If you do enough to scare me, I might choose not to see you again." He smiled to himself and it made me angry with him. Not just because he thought what I said was an empty threat, but because it may have actually been.

He let go of my hands and stepped behind me before I could react.

"You're not going anywhere..._ You couldn't get rid of me now even if you knew it was the best thing for you_."

He could be right all he wanted-- I wasn't letting him know it.

"But that doesn't fix this problem here, and you are worrying me-"

"I don't intend to fix it."

"**Don't**_touch me,_" I demanded, so bothered I jabbed him in the chest when he tried to enclose me. "I-I'm sorry but I cannot-j-hdgh-" I waved my hands around and breathed heavily. "I'm in no place to go back to doing whatever you want me to do. I do not accept this right now, and I won't tomorrow, or next week, so you had better fix _something_ because you're... you're insane!"

His approaching posture dropped to my utterance.

"And you agreed that that's fine," he answered... complacently, almost.

I glared at him before opening the door and hurrying to somewhere where people would surround me, where he couldn't say a word more, or touch me, or manipulate me. He was already using things I'd said against me, so call my reaction contradictory, my only desire was to no longer be there.

The eyes of someone in the lobby, innocent and grey-blue, unaware of our struggles, fluctuated somewhat when they met mine, like I was visibly troubled. It made me bolt for the front doors even faster that I'd planned, running into freezing night air that made the walk back seem impossible. Godamnit. What was I going to do. I searched for my phone in my pocket but it was missing, and that's when I'd realized I left my coat, with the phone in it, sitting on the table in that room.

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me!" I voiced, not even quite sure if I was alone. My eyes darted to the curb for any cars and there he stood, dangling my possessions in front of him.

"You might need this."

I took it from him without saying a word. I could not tell if he'd changed his mind and felt a little guilty at this point, but he was standing there, expecting something more, after the coat was on me and I was clicking through my contact list.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

My eyes rose exasperatedly to his face.

"That's alright."

"Don't go home upset."

He still kept persisting on me with those wide eyes.

"Sorry, but _one of us has to be upset over this, and obviously, you aren't._"

Much as it needed to be said, this was not the kind of conversation I wanted to have at a public place. There were people just beyond this door. Maybe not many, but enough. I could not decide if Erik was unable to think of a response or felt my concern was not enough to merit it. He loomed very close to me in his turn for the stairs. He was casual in descending them, the same hand with blood stains surely inside the glove, gliding down the railing. He paused at the sidewalk and smiled to me.

"Have a good night."

I shook my head in disbelief and turned my back on him to return inside, my call to Giry already ringing.

I knew the moment I told her I felt uncomfortable walking home alone out there that she'd have questions, but I did to convince her to pick me up.

The maroon car rolled up in front about eight minutes later – I had counted the time on my phone. The friends she had been with when I called, two of them, accompanied her, and I had to sit in the back, where I quickly put my seatbelt on and leaned into the window with my hand along my forehead. They were all staring at me, to make it worse.

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

The friends, not even bothering to glance away from my area of the car, had me clenching my free hand.

"I'm fine, _really_," I said through my teeth. She took the hint and put her foot on the gas. Oblivious to- no, I suppose that is the wrong word... Unknowing of what I had been through, and not seeming to realize that it wouldn't help, the three chattered on mindlessly all the way to my street, laughing over things that happened earlier that I didn't get or care to have explained to me at all. But Giry slowed down the car along the curb to my house and I stepped out as soon as we were no longer in motion, realizing that simultaneously, so did she, obviously after me for more questions. I got as far as the first half of the driveway.

"Are you okay?"

I swung around and shrugged my shoulders.

"Don't I look fine?"

"Well... you said you didn't feel safe walking home, so..."

"Yeah. Well, it's cold and dark."

"We can always talk at my house. Upstairs? Those two can entertain each other."

"No, really. It's fine. I'm a little _creeped_, but nothing happened to me, and I just wanna go inside and watch some television or something."

She half-smiled and exhaled into the dead air.

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you, _for giving me a-"_

"Yeah."


	21. Chapter 21 How Not to Ignore Problems

**Author's note: Hiii. Is everything cool between us? I haven't heard from anybody, and yes, I know some odd things have been happening in the story since I came back, hahah... I realized when I wrote the last sentence of this chapter that this fanfiction/story is going to be very long (it's already about 130 pgs) It isn't my intention to be substance-less in my chapters sometimes, I've just been trying to explain more than what/who the story is mainly about so that there's complexity and... well I'm the author so maybe it's just me, but I also care about the other characters, and little things. I don't know what I'm trying to say sorry about here, probably nothing. Just throwing it in because it's on my mind. Muuuuch much more will happen in the next chapter. Just let me know if you feel I'm getting boring and I'll consider it more when I write and try to get into larger interactions quicker. **

**There is also a new song to my collection for this story, thanks to a friend. (Who will read this soon and go 'wow, she is fast to declare'). It is the simple but lovely Strange & Beautiful by Aqualung. We agreed it was perfect.**

* * *

**HE'S THERE  
**Chapter 21 – How Not to Ignore Problems

It had been in hour since I was home. I retreated into my parent's bedroom to lay on their bed and watch their television, the cellphone sitting next to me the entire time, for God knows what. I half expected him to call or text me, I guess, to try explaining or, well _anything_. Even to remind me that I was melodramatic. But he didn't. He was completely content relaying the information that I had learned earlier, watching me hurry off, and knowing that I would worry all night.

He just didn't _care_, about anything!

Running a razorblade or a scissor end, etc etc, into his face to the point of serious wounds was apparently as basic to him as brushing his teeth or watering the plants. I was scaring myself even thinking about what he looked like under that mask... not because I pictured and expected the most handsome man in the world. It was only, and rightly so, because I cared about his wellbeing and knew that he had not only damaged a place I wanted to touch and admire some day, but to do so in the first place pointed to, at the very least, moderate psychological instability.

I knew he had to be...quirky... different... but... I didn't know at this point. What word to use. How that word effects us, or me.

The television was going off, now. I was sick of looking for something to watch. I had tried to distract myself with stand-up on Comedy Central, but all of the holly-jolly commercials for Christmas on its way made me want to head butt the screen.

I moseyed into the study and signed into aim.

Suddenly a message popped up from Meg, who needed to let me know immediately that she had found Jeffrey's myspace.

"that's great" I typed. "how long did it take and to what measures did you go"

"i just looked up his name, whore"

"uhuh. after all this time liking him, you wandered over to myspace today"

"shut up!!"

I suddenly didn't feel like pestering her anymore, so I exed the window and went to check my email. Livejournal comment, nothing else...

"ok ok paulina gave it" popped up.

"not surprised"

"i told her and she said she knew him so yeah  
but guess waht

what"

"...what"

"he is single, and he actually likes cartoons  
i thought he did cuz he had futurama stickers"

"uhuh?"

"and he loves stephen colbert

and and and he wants to be a bio engineer.  
HAWT."

Before I knew I would do it, I cackled in amazement for how simple her love-life was and fell back in the chair. This would've been something I was saying last year.

"_and omg guess what, my crush cuts up his face! kind of like edward scissorhands! woo!"_ I almost wanted to type.

"so when should I expect the baby"

"hmmm... next year"

"won't that interfere with your studies?"

"we can handle it"

...Had this been any other night, the conversation would've continued humorously for a while. I felt blank inside, though. A question came to me that I felt like asking even if I didn't care much one way or the other.

"... so are you friending him/talking to him now?"

"no!! why would i do that  
he doesnt know me"

"great question"

"..."

"maybe you should just talk to him tomorrow"

"i dont know we're doing a lab"

"ok then the next day"

"maybe"

"you know eventually you will. tomorrow or next month, its the same thing"

"i know!! i'm just nervous ok"

besides its not the same thing

i need time to prepare"

"prepare for what? him to see your best most poised, beautiful, amazing side first? if you plan to date him, he's going to learn more about you than that. might as well be true and candid."

"uuhuh."

Maybe I should have left it where it was.

APHGH! I jumped as the phone next to me rang at top volume. My heart instantaneously started beating hard, like it was bolting about inside my chest. I paused and watched the little blue light flash, raising my hand for it. When it was far enough in the melody to where I might want to check before it went to voicemail, I took a look. Fhahd-flkjs;lkd- alksd;l. Just Giry. I flung it open in relief.

"Hello?"

"Hey, kiddo." Ahhh the sound of 'kiddo'.

"...My visitors just left. I just wanted to call and make sure... you know, everything's fine. You seemed really uneasy."

"It is-"

"I got your text beforehand... y-you were with Erik?"

"Y-yeah."

She was awkwardly silent.

"Look... I'll tell you about it another time... I want to talk to you about it, really.-"

"That's okay-"

"I just need to grasp it myself."

"It's okay, hun, IIIII get it," she reassured.

"...Thanks. And thanks for calling."

"Of course."

Silence, again.

"Meg and I are going to watch a movie here tomorrow night. You should join us."

"... Sure. ...What time?"

"Hmmm... about five?"  
"...Unsure?"

"Well she's coming over right after school to pass the time. But I don't know if you're busy... Plus... I have... some other housemates that will still be here at that time before they're out to dinner."

How cute, she still thought her parents would spoil the mood of the roleplay.

"I should probably try to do my homework at some point. Five it is."

"That's a great idea" she laughed.

"See you."

"Okay, good night."

"Night."

I looked back to Meg and she had put up an away message to go play Final Fantasy.

- - -

"Lily, you're not talking much today," Mariam muttered while picking apart her sandwich. I was sitting at the opposite end of the couch in the choir room with my chin in my hand, staring into the glossed floor boards, nicked from years and years of rolling television screens, rowdy male actors, and the improvisation unit. My eyes gradually wandered their way to her face.

"Why do you always act like I need to be talking?"

"I'm not! Wh at're you thinking about, is all?" See, this was my day in a nutshell. People acting like I'm a basketcase.

"I don't know. ... I'm failing math?"

"Lilyyyy."

"Whaaaat?"

"We promised each other we wouldn't let ourselves fail math this year. _College_, remember?"

"I can bring it up... It's just 56. I'll stay after and get help." Her pause confirmed that the effort I put into sounding like I meant it was lacking.

"O-kay..."

"...What?"

"Nothing."  
"What."

"... I don't know... I guess I just.. wonder if you have time..."

"Believe me. I have plenty of time. Plenty. Lots."  
"Okay!"

"You still think that he's trying to control my life, don't you?"

"No." She answered abruptly.

It didn't seem worthwhile to say anything else.

"Can we please not get in a fight? I wasn't implying anything."

"Okay, sorry."

- - -

At the beginning of the day, I told myself that when I came home, I'd put my homework on the counter and actually get something done before five. But by the last ten minutes of sixth period, I really doubted that I would make it. I'd spent all seven hours there or so acting like a zombie. Barely paying attention all. To anything. To the people around me, to all the sound, to even the sound of my name... to Meg several times in the hallway. I had had days like this before, over various things, so no one much talked about my behavior other than my own best friend who had the nerve to pick at me in such a way.

But I wanted to do what I had earlier scolded myself over. I just wanted to escape into a movie or a book. Then I wanted to walk to Giry's and feel happy to be with my friends. Was that so much to ask? It could happen without conflict, I'm sure.

I reached the front doors to leave for home and my eye caught a black umbrella, something I understood immediately and reacted to by slipping away from the illuminated glass. My emotional reaction was something I could not explain. I returned to the hall and kept going, approaching the drama department, running the question over in my head about why he could have the nerve to follow me. He had said, not with implications, but blunt as always that he had no intention to fix the problem. He was simply there to be there and to get a piece of me when he didn't deserve it.

It was a hopeless effort to try a different door. This path from the choir room spilled right into the road, nothing hiding me from a simple glance of his to the right, even if I leaned in towards the draping tree branches. But I hurried downhill, nonetheless, because it was all that I could do. I supposed if I was fast enough, he wouldn't be able to catch up before I was heading into my driveway. _Hurry hurry hurry... _I tried to, the road was just a little too wet. The sound of a car approaching stopped abruptly and a door slammed. Shit. He was behind me.

"Are you done being upset for us?"

I said nothing and continued to walk, refusing to even give away any emotional response to seeing him again or hearing that incredulous, objective question. But no matter how I tried to make my journey home, he persisted in the corner of my eye.

"This has nothing to do with you, anyway."

And now he was lying.

I accelerated my pace even further and he noticed. I felt a gentle hand, which had many times before held some paper-thin metal end, try to enclose my dangling arm, but I cut my path far enough away from him to disrupt the contact.

"I never thought I'd say this," He started. I could see my house now, that's all I had to worry about getting to. "But it's exhilarating to see you so concerned about me."

Ohooooh.

"It's not you that I'm concerned about, really."

"Concerned about yourself... " At least he understood _some_ part of this situation. "That's just as exciting. It means you finally see how easily it is for other people to harm you." He mentioned it like it was a good thing that people could harm me.

"Yes, that is exactly it. Now please leave me alone."

"But don't you see? You have already changed since I first met you. You're losing your arrogant little mindset. You know I'm stronger than you. You find out things about people, ugly things, things that you've never had to deal with, that you don't understand... yet, and you realize how small you are, and that makes you scared: scared people like me would hurt you. Well I never would."

I turned into my walkway and hurried towards the door. When I opened it, I made sure to slam it behind me without looking.

--

His self-assured little speech was just another thing disrupting my mind.  
Was he right?  
There are right ways to be right, and wrong ways.  
If that makes any sense.

- - -

I expected that by the time I was at Giry's house that this weight on my shoulders would just go away for a while, but nothing made any difference at first. I walked on in and she lead me to the den upstairs, a nice little place I hadn't seen before. Meg was jumping on the couch and Giry informed me that she'd been having far too many pixy sticks and was excited because we were watching both the Shrek movies. That sounded good, I guess. I wandered over to the arm chair and had a few smarties from the bowl on the coffee table myself, recognizing it as left over Halloween candy.

The movie watching itself isn't much to mention. Nothing worth noting happened until Giry let us get up during the last scenes of the first and get drinks. I sat at the bar and had Meg do the searching through their fridge for me when sherevealed a vodka bottle in a dramatic pose and set it on the counter. Giry laughed hysterically seeing such an item in her tiny innocent-enough looking hands. Without any verbal agreement to the proposal, we all just sorta gathered around the kitchen and made our own drinks with it. Giry wanted one, Meg wanted one, and maybe they were surprised without saying so that I wanted one too, but there it was in my hands, mixed by yours truly, condensation glistening under my fingertips as we sat on the deck and watched the sky darken. Or, maybe I was the only one watching the sky, but I tried not to get preoccupied with my thoughts too much.

We were distracted enough picking on Meg for liking Jeffrey Vanhorn, anyway, whose full name I shouted when we were outside three times before I was tackled.

And this... this screwdriver, they call it. Stuff started to matter less and less the same way the glass got emptier. I was a light-weight for any alcoholic, sugary, or caffeinated substance. I swear I didn't feel impaired. I just felt so light... like the air was swaying me. We could have fun! I thought. The night didn't seem like something that could end until we wanted it to. And my goal, consequences nonexistent, was to find Jeffrey and make Meg give him a lapdance. Before we knew it, Giry and I were describing, in unnecessary detail, what Mr. and Mrs. Vanhorn would do at their honeymoon on the coasts of Jamaica, which at that time was the funniest word ever.

The whole time, Shrek, Donkey and Fiona's voices emanated from the living room.

They didn't seem to notice that I refilled my drink, just that it was really funny seeing me so off balance and amused with the world. I liked it, actually. Under the influence, the fact that I was failing math... well who gave a fuck, I did not even remember that there was such thing as school. And the Phantom? He was just emo and annoying. Ohhhh forget it! Forget caring, the most important thing was making myself laugh. We played Twister and Giry almost broke my ankle by falling on it during her quest for the green dot. Even that was funny.

Everything was so funny that the room was spinning.


	22. Chapter 22 How Not to Ignore Problems P2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I am terribly sorry that I passed up three weeks worth of updates. I suppose, like Lily, I was confused and solving my problems in a short-term way instead of taking time to think. I don't really make it a goal to let any of you know in extensive detail what my opinion is of my work, but I'm nit-picky and never satisfied. I have spurts of feeling I don't know how to write anymore and hating everything and feeling that I'm inadequate. That was the problem when I began a rough draft of chapter 22.

And YA romances are a lot harder to do than are given credit. It's tough. It's hard not knowing if what you have slaved over isn't a total cliché. If it's realistic, if it's even interesting or thought-provoking... And what I dread most is if it could be compared to Twilight, which you must know eventually is a book that I find ridiculously overrated and uncreative. --/said it-- I am prepared to lose readers with that comment.

Anyway. I don't mind a little critique every now and then. Because then I can begin understanding what works and what doesn't. It's all good, though. I have had the time to understand what I'm writing and am excited to write more. Well... here it is.

* * *

**HE'S THERE**

Chapter 22 – How Not to Ignore Problems, P2

So there I was, on my knees before the toilet bowl. Besides the weight of several hands on my shoulders, I could not make out any sign that my two friends were there with me. Then distant, soft, but nervous muttering came from each side of my ear. I couldn't even understand my own thoughts, let alone theirs. I tried to shake my head 'no' but they didn't get it. I voiced a rather loopy "I'm fine," and the hands retracted.

I leaned away from the surface of the water and was somehow instantly annoyed by the two pairs of legs, cautious at both my sides, until a blurred Giry face crouched to my level.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Still so buzzed, my head swayed back and I grinned at her.

"Oh my _God_, she's completely plastered!" Meg crossed her arms. I could faintly sense that she felt awkward, but it just wasn't my concern right then.

Again, they spoke to each other, just a little too fast for me to work out.

"Maybe we should send her home?" The higher voice said, which had to be Meg's.

"No, ..--... her parents ... know."

They muttered again to each other.

"My --nts! Oh my _God_, ...! Okay... Lily?"

"Whaaat?!" I responded.

"Can you stand?"

"Wha-ghk-_yes_." It was weird, here. One part knew that I was wobbling like a fish and needed help, and the other hated and did not understand this treatment. When I tried to get up, I sort of fell into Meg's arms and sent her into the wall. She was tinier than me, I just wasn't thinking. Stronger pale arms came around me and pulled me away a second later, and I watched the door frame grow distant as a bunch of limbs that were not mine guided me down the stairs. Stairs... for some reason they scared the hell out of me... my socks were so slippery, I just kept missing the end of the step. I must have had serious carpet burn when we reached the bottom. They seemed worried, but why, I don't know. We should have kept playing Twister or something.

"Get her on the bed," Giry said. I was approaching one, which I thought had dark red sheets. They had me horizontal without much struggle because I realized how much less the ground seemed unstable when I wasn't trying to navigate it.

"What now?"

"We ...probably... clean... bit. ... house, -_ess_. My... arounddd... time now, reall-..."

"_Somebody­- ... out!"_

"No, ... Do you want to just hang in here? For a little bit?"

"Whyyy."

"You're really out of it."

"Do you know how much you drank?!"

I narrowed my eyes.

"Not now, Mariam-... she pro-... -ember a-... drunk, ... sit down and stop ... -et sick... We can... check on her... doing... ?"

She turned to me again.

"We need to take care of some stuff," she said sternly to my face.

"I don't... no... whatever..."

She moved away quickly and put something at the bedside. Meg watched me a lot before they closed the door on me and left me all by myself. Which was fine when I realized how her ceiling pattern moved when I watched it closely enough. I rolled on the bed, realizing just fine that it wasn't mine, but in love with the texture.

- - -

The clock read 9:34 at some point when I stopped laying around and wanting to get up. By then I had realized that when I did, I kept feeling sick, and I decided to avoid throwing up at any cost. Throwing up was disgusting.

How I got there was becoming very sketchy. I know that the Giry girls had thrown me in there, I know that at any moment I could walk out the door and get the hell out of there, but because something didn't click, I was afraid of who I might run into and had some grasp of the fact that whatever condition I was in, my parents would not approve, and when you're paranoid about parents, it feels possible that they could pop up anywhere. I was also certainly not in a state to be seen, because my hair was a mess, I felt groggy and hot, and my breath still had remnants of screwdrivers. Somehow I pulled myself over Giry's desk and flopped onto the chair to use a brush she had sitting there. All of her make-up and jewelry was organized in some fancy boxes, and she had a very big mirror, so I could see just how ugly I was.

When I was done with that, I came back to the bed and noticed her telephone sitting on the table. I wasn't in thought for long before I tried for Meg's cellphone, since I didn't know Giry's offhand.

It rang twice before I got an answer.

"Lily?!"

"Hey there."

"Are you- where are you?"

"EghhII-, in Giry's room... I think."

"Oh. Okay. W-"

"Where are you?"

"... I'm at home, I went home like a half hour ago."

Silence.

"H-how long... did I see you... ago...?"

"...I don't know... Maybe eight. ... Do you feel any better?"

I breathed in deep.

"I don't know! ...I got really dizzy. Still dizzy" I laughed a bit. She didn't say anything.

"Do you think you're gonna be able to go home soon?" She finally asked.

"I... sure... maybe... I'll ask Giry..."

"Paulina." She corrected. Just then the door opened and closed quickly. Giry saw me on the phone as she backed against it and paused.

"I gotta go."

"Is Paulina there?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Sure, Mrs. Vanhorn."

She laughed, but it seemed like guilty laughter.

"Bye..."

When Giry heard the phone click together, she turned her gaze from the floor and took a deep breath.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"You can talk with me, right?"

"Hehghg, of course," I reassured, sliding my legs back on the mattress. She quietly approached the bed herself and sat cross-legged at the end.

"My parents are back now. When you're ready, I can just take you home. But if you're not, that's cool."

"Aren't they gonna know-"

"Maybe not. I mean... if they do, they're not really gonna be happy about what we did, but... My parents don't really freak out the way yours would. They don't even know you, so... They just wouldn't pry like that."

"That's weird." I said. I knew my parents would flip. This is true. But somehow I did not believe her when she said they would leave me be.

Giry breathed in and out a few times and sucked on her lip. Her gray eyes darted back at me.

"You had another drink, didn't you?"

"... What?"

"That vodka bottle wasn't that big. I noticed that it looked emptier than when we left it. Did you have another one?"

I didn't feel like admitting.

"Just tell me. I'm not gonna bitch you out."

"Okay. Yeah." I answered like it was nothing.

"Why?"

"I don't know? I just felt like it." I fell back on her pillow.

"Do you.. drink... a lot?" I could sense she knew she was asking a forward question.

"No... wine sometimes... at get-togethers..."

"Okay..."

Neither of us knew why I had been hammered, truthfully.

"Can I have my stuff?"

"Oh! Yeah... I think you left it on the coat-rack by the door..." She got up and left, returning a second-later with my purse and handed it to me. She watched, at the foot of the bed again, as I rummaged through my stuff for a tic-tac and checked my cellphone. There was a voicemail, which scared me immediately. I dared to listen.

"First unheard message sent _today_ at _8:58 p.m._"

"_Hey Lily,"_ my dad said, _"Your mom wanted to know how late you're staying over there. She was worried 'cause it's supposed to snow again tonight and the roads are icy, so... Uhhh, call us back when you get this."_

I closed my eyes and called sender, trying to prepare myself to sound very alert and sober. No one answered for a while, then Dad picked up. I was relieved to hear that he nor my mom, faintly in the background, seemed paranoid. I told them we had just gotten carried away and it took me until then to check my phone, which was all true. He said it was fine and I assured him that I'd be out the door soon. I flipped it closed when we were done and stared at Giry.

"...Do I look okay?"

She shook out of thought and stood up.

"Here, stand up." I rose from the bed, recognizing a bit of normalcy again as I stood, less wobbly, at about the same height as her. I still felt really light, like I'd been sprinkled with pixie dust. "I think.. I think you'll be fine. Just don't move too fast."

The comment made me chuckle, with more heart in it than necessary.

"And when you get home, don't spend too much time outside your room."

"Well duhhhhhhh..."

"I thought you were gonna be really sick, Lily."

"I still feel sick," I mumbled, swaying towards the door.

"Can you make it?"

"_Yes._ But I have to piss like a racehorse." I uttered, deadpan. She exhaled laughter and lead me to the downstairs restroom, where I went for, I swear, a minute straight. Her parents, I could hear them with their mysterious voices, were up in the den discussing something when we stepped out the door. She wanted to hurry for the car, so we skedaddled out of there.

When I took out my keys, unlocked, and came inside, they were both in the living room, happy to see me back and asking questions like "did you have fun?" I answered curtly and headed for the stairs. I didn't trip a little until the wall half way up covered me from their view, but I had to hold the railing the whole way up for fear that I would break my neck.

- - -

A swirl of ache washed over my forehead when I removed myself from bed too abruptly. I had set my clock at 7:00 with hope of being fit for school today, but wasn't so sure when this happened.

That night I had the most retarded dream ever. Shrek was in it, and he was angry, and I got chased by this group of birds; ducks or geese or something, with wild nasal calls, that wouldn't leave me alone no matter where I ran to or hid. And the Phantom was there, and he was being very nice to me and pulling out flowers from thin air and putting them in my hair. I could feel the fuzzy, warm, gloved fingers, even in my dreams. But as I said, we were surrounded in birds. So...

The walk to the bathroom had an undertone of difference, like I was one or two notches below how I felt every morning when I did this same thing. I seeped into the bathroom and washed my face, brushed my teeth, and took a break from standing by sitting on the toilet lid and closing my eyes a moment.

I really don't know why I did that.

It just felt nice. I didn't feel stressed. I began to see the skeletons of my problems and how "simple" they were to solve.

Suddenly I thought I should check my phone and email to see if Erik had said anything at all. I hurried back out of the bathroom, enduring the throb in my temples, and switched my phone on while heading for the study. There was nothing in my inbox, and nothing new was showing up on the phone. It was like he was giving me a break. Or maybe he was just too busy suddenly. Who knows, with him.

I slid away from the monitor and thought long and hard about if I wanted to pursue school today. Was it worth it... Thursday... Advanced Algebra, Art, Acting III, and English. More stuff I didn't understand, Mrs. Yue having everyone improvise for an hour and a half straight, fooling around aimlessly with Meg and the others in anticipation of Winter break, and reviewing for The Scarlet Letter test.

Oh God, what was I gonna do... tell Mom that I'm sick? I could pull it off. I really did look like shit this morning, it's not like I had to fake anything.

I just didn't know. I couldn't be this behind in class. I couldn't keep sabotaging my grades. Besides, if I stayed here... I would have nothing to do all day, the Giry girls could be even more suspicious about why I was drinking in excess last night if it was so bad that I had to miss school from a hangover, and... aghgh, and I had work tonight from 4:30 to 8:00.

This sucked. T-there was no way to save this day. It was gonna suck no matter what. But there were two ways that it could suck; me doing something beneficial or me being a bum.

Okay, I was going to school. It was fine. I slipped on my brown jeans and a black shirt, I brushed out my hair and put in a flower clip, I snatched all my notebooks and folders on the desk and shoved them on into my bag, I stared long and hard at myself in the mirror by the door, and I walked out into twenty-eight degrees.

- - -

I really wanted to understand what Mr. Darelle was talking about. I had flipped through the book once to find out the basics, but all the numbers were just giving me a bigger headache. He looked at me like we hated each other when I started sinking into my seat, as if my laziness was shameless. It was not. For God's sake, it was not.

I don't want to go over school. Forget it. It was a waste of time after all, because I could not pay attention and this headache was with me all day long.

Forget also that Giry was randomly not there. But that may have been good or she would see me and my condition, put two and two together, and I would feel bad that we had still not gone over what happened with the Phantom.

I didn't know if I wanted to tell her.

What if she turned on me? What if she started agreeing with Meg that he was a creep and a psycho and both started trying to persuade me to disown him? I can kind of deal with one person disapproving of what I do, but not two, especially two that are very important in my book.

I just wanted to find some reason to justify Erik mutilating his face.

I wanted to convince myself that this was his own business and things could go on from here, like I knew they would eventually. I was not leaving him; he knew it, I knew it. He let me know this at the wrong time and thus made me even more upset, but the truth is the truth.

It all came down to accepting that he had problems, which was already being lead up to beforehand. He could not control his weirdness and I would always see it.

It's not so much that if he personally wants to cut himself, he can.

It's that if he wants to, I am reluctantly hurt, and confused, and worried for him, and I think he misunderstands me when I'm rushing away from him and being sharp. He mistakes it for fear and judgment. He cannot seem to tell that I'm not trying to judge him, I just think that when given the question "is it right to slice up your body", most anyone would say "no".

I mean, does he not know that he is a very important and influential figure in my life, and I want him to be okay?

No, he is too excited that we're fighting again and that I know his "secret", and that I'm being a scared little "normal" girl.

Ohhh, my head.


	23. Chapter 23 That Makes Two of Us

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hey again, everyone. I've been particularly inspired and knew I had to make up for skipping updates, so here is chapter 23. For rizzle. I'm happy with this and the last, mostly, because I wrote it thinking to myself "I can do whatever the hell I want with my own damn story," and not every single thing needs to be plot driven. This is to be a long fanfiction chronicling months of this girl's life roleplaying POTO, and that means plenty of details and conversations... it can't matter to me anymore that I have an audience here. (Which I love to death, but again, this is my story.) And, hey, it is also fine that nobody is reviewing anymore. XD Actually no, I miss reviews. But hey, we get busy. Enjoy and R&R maybe, perhaps, if you feel like it, possibly.

* * *

**HE'S THERE**

**Chapter 23 – That Makes Two of Us**

The pain in my forehead dissolved into a weak pang between my eyes when I moved too fast, but things were suddenly seeming average again at 9:00 PM. When I looked back on it, the day wasn't as horrible as I suspected when I woke up. It helped that Baskin Robbin hadn't so many costumers that night and I got a chance to socialize with a couple girls behind the counter and a semi-cute guy (not that it means much to me). I told them rather bluntly, not sure why it needed to be a taboo subject, that I drank too much the night before and suffered the side affects and all but one nodded their heads and sympathized with me.

I also got a free sample of Mocha Chocolate afterwards, maybe with a little hope that it would wake me up.

I finished it on the way home and realized that it was time to stop moping. I should probably just call the Phantom and discuss this subject calmly and rationally. _And in English, if you don't mind._ (Cookies for you if you know what movie that line is from.)

So that all lead up to me, standing at the tower of the play structure in the park. Covered in fuzzy layers, like a snow monster, yet determined to be outside; to be alone; to be higher than every thing and every one else. My skin felt like marble... it hurt to breathe- this air was piercing the walls of my throat. But the starless navy sky was entrancing. I just didn't want to leave it. I wanted to stare up at infinity for a while and contemplate if I had truly changed at all since I met him. No... I felt like... no... I don't see how. Maybe I had become more assertive, but more frightened all the same.

When I returned to my feet, about ready to climb down and head to warmth and safety, I could see the wooden theatre structure's roof. No outlines, no detail... just the attic window... with a round white light cutting through the brush like a full moon. Strange... I could not remember seeing such a thing when I arrived.

It didn't mean he was there.

Though I did wonder what he must have been up to that very moment.

He thinks I think that he might hurt me.

'Well I never would.'

It was only a half relevant statement.

Like he knew he was eventually going to scare me.

"What are you doing up there." Meg's voice echoed. I darted my eyes at the ground and couldn't find her. When I swirled behind me, she was hanging on a bar in a poofy blue snow coat with fur trim, very relaxed, it seemed.

I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. Both of us went silent again as she swung back and forth a bit and I watched her shadow along the snow-scattered dirt, stretched and mangled by the streetlights.

"...How did we both end up here at the same time?"

"My parents forgot to get the mail. I saw you when I went out."

"...All the way down there?" I gestured down the street to her house. She stopped playing and dropped.

"I know, I know... you're used to people stalking you..."

"Heh, oh, you're so clever."

Her face was dim, but I could tell it was smiling. She strolled around the bottom of the tower and worked her way up, pausing with her arms crossed over the platform under my feet. I was analyzed by those round black eyes for some time, probably looking some mixture between amused and annoyed before she asked.

"Are you feeling okay lately?"

I breathed heavily.

"Whyyyy do you ask..."

"Uhhhh... Well... you have been quiet all week... you keep wanting to talk about _me_... which... come on... you're can't be _that_ interested in my life. Especially my love-life."

"No, I really do think Jeffrey's cute."

"Okay, fine. I just want to know why you went so damn overboard last night." The way she said it didn't sound quite like herself. Maybe it was just the high juvenile voice... almost like it was asking a kid why they stuffed their vegetables in a napkin and threw it out. Except the kid was me, and I was two months older than her.

"Why does it matter? You have drank plenty of times and I never brought it up again."

"Yeah, but-"

"And Paulina obviously does sometimes... and nearly every one at school."

"But _you_ never did..."

"I guess I jumped the bandwagon."

Mariam though to herself a moment and let go of the platform.

"Suit it yourself."

Another long awkward silence.

"I doubt it will happen much again. The stuff actually didn't taste so great..."

"Yeah..."

"...Where was Paulina today?"

"Uhmmm... I don't know. I think I'll text her. She wasn't on aim or anything." I smiled to myself. Not sure why... She came up to the top and we huddled together with our glowing phone screens, incessant clicking noises from each. I wanted to check if I'd gotten anything, I guess.

"Godddd..." She started, her message sending. "It's fucking cold out."

"Noooo shitttt."

"Hehgheh... yeah..." She lowered her head in thought.

"So. How did chemistry go today? Both kinds."

"Tchh. Nothing happened. We took notes, and he ignored me."

"Well have-"

"_No more_ about Jeffrey! If I say hi, I'll tell you, otherwise I'm a chicken."

"Okay okay-"

"H-How is the Phantom."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"... I thought you didn't want to hear about that stuff."

"Yeah well we have nothing to do and we're sitting on the play structure in the dark and I guess I'm in the mood, so spill before I change my mind."

I thought of how to word even the first sentence that would answer "how" he was "doing". Nothing came.

"Wow, that's so interesting. He must be one hell of a guy."

I snickered. The kind of way you do when you want to ignore how cold you are.

"I don't really know what to tell you... about how he is...'doing'."

"Well when'd you see him last?"

"...Yesterday."

"When?" I realized that to her, my day seemed busy. School and then the Shrek party. I could not exactly say that he followed me home when I was trying to mind my own business.

"We just had a short talk after school."

"About..."

"...About..." I shook my head, trying to convince her without actually verbalizing that we were going to reach a dead end one way or the other. "Well, we're just having kind of a disagreement... on something... and he thinks I'm being a little... rude... and I think... he's not being empathetic enough."

"So you're fighting."

"No. No... really... we're not..."

"I could've sworn you guys fought all the time. You know, first he finds out about Paulina, then he doesn't want us to talk."

I narrowed my eyes.

Just then, her cellphone pulsed a load upbeat pop song, which I think was Harajuku Girls, which totally mismatched the mood of our conversation and could have been avoided. She went for it instantly, like it was saving her from my reaction.

"Heyyyyyyyy!! ... What's up? ... Agghh, really? Oghhh poor baby." She made kissing noises into the phone. I rolled my eyes. "Are you serious? ... God, I guess you're right...I'm here with Lillian... ...She is... tres contrarié..." I raised myself from our sitting place briefly and looked to the glowing window again. It was still sitting there. "-And then I was like... what are you doing?! No!!Aghahaha! But Mr. Byne doesn't really notice... ... Oh, okay... yeah, I'll see you." She turned to me and swung the phone in front of my face so fast she almost nicked me in the teeth. "Lily, say bye."

"... Bye, ... Paulina." I felt awkward saying it.

"Okay, cya." She concluded.

She hung it up and we just stared at each other as she wet her lips with her tongue.

"Paulina said she had a throbbing headache in the middle of the night that wouldn't go away and now she's got the flu."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"...Hm. Well I'm lucky she didn't have to do any mouth-to-mouth on me last night, aren't I?"

I said it without much thought and then the both of us were giggling like asian schoolgirls.

It died down and we had nothing left.

"... We don't fight all of the time," I reminded her, blankly, with my eyes down the street.

"...Often enough?"

"I don't _know_. I don't think they are really fights."

"They're either fights or they're not."

"It's more like... he's just planets away from you or me. He's a human being, he speaks in the same language, but nothing he conveys is from a... a .. familiar... sort of... brain."

"...Uhuh? ..."

"It's like, he could be totally upset over something I think we need to just forget about, or he's all 'whatever' about something I just cannot make sense of. Our definition of 'normal' is totally different. He's a weirdo. Or _I'm_ a weirdo? I don't know..."

"How is he different than us."

I made a bunch of stress-relieving nonsensical sounds and scratched the back of my head a little.

"When he wants to make a point... he just says it. No bullshit, not even build-up."

"Lots of people are like that."

"But he doesn't seem to always know that he has to explain why he's saying it or elaborate. He isn't even helpful if what he says is disagreeable. He just thinks you should come to terms with it. Like he must always know what he's talking about, and-"

"Maybe he's bad with girls."

"I-I don't know. I haven't asked about his history."

"Maybe you should."

"No! That's completely inappropriate."

"Why?"

"...I..."

"If you're going for a relationship, that sounds like a perfectly expected thing to ask."

"I guess, but..."

She stared at me blankly.

"Maybe I don't want to know."

"Why?"

"Becauseeee... then... I wouldn't be the only one."

"Awwwww..."

"Shut up." I nudged her in the arm.

Suddenly I realized what we were getting to and I wanted only to escape it. I stared into the floor and crossed my arms, scrunching my shoulders in to hide my face in the collar of my coat.

Mariam took the signal well enough and stood up to start scanning the horizon.

"So... if you don't mind me asking... Why do you care so much about someone that's so socially inept and... weird?"

I really didn't know how to answer. She sharply turned to me and fell back into the bars.

"Okay wait... sorry... I didn't mean it like if someone's weird than they don't deserve anyone to care about them. I just meant... You only understand him, what? Half, a quarter of the time? And it's hard for him to handle your feelings right?"

"At least half of the time I _do_ understand him. And when I do, I realize that the things he does understand about _me, _he understands more than anyone else. Well... I mean... you would be in that category too."

"What does he understand about you."

I buried my forehead in my palm.

"He's _toying_ with me. He knows something about what I want that even I don't know. It's like I have been secretly insane all of these years, and he wants to see me lose my composure."

"...What?"

"I think he knows that how I am is...not how I am."

"Oh."

"And he appears to be exactly how he is, and he's trying to promote total honesty here, a total dive into...weirdness... And I'm just not there yet. But I could be, eventually. No.. no... one of us has to be the designated driver here."

She laughed.

"I don't completely get what you're going on about."

"... That's probably good."

"It's just funny that someone I only met a couple months ago is the one that knows this about me."

"That's because he's your stalker."

"Yeah, and it's weird having a stalker."

"Well don't you ever think about the fact that stalkers are a bad thing?"

"But I know what it's like to be obsessed."

"...I know you do."

"...What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"...Maybe you and the Phantom are more alike than I thought?"

"Ohohoh, really? I've never stalked someone."

"You may as well have." I paused and stared at her. "I think you just let him stalk you because you know it's regarding his feelings for you."

"..."

"It feels good having some guy be absolutely madly in love with you, doesn't it?"

"Okay, I really do not think that's true. ...Are you forgetting that this is a roleplay?"

"I think he's just using the roleplay as a device."

"But I can tell he's a Phantom at heart. I just can. There's so much more to discover about him, too."

Mariam looked like her mind was going off in a tangent.

"Since _when_ did your life get so interesting and complicated?"

"... I don't know... October?"

"See? God was all 'I'm sick of Lily bitching.'"

"It's not ..._quite_ as fantastical as I thought it would be."

I joined her in stance and looked up the street. I couldn't spot the window any longer.


	24. Chapter 24 A Shame

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Hi everyone! Long time no see…

I've had a lot of time to work on other projects, which was my reason for going on hiatus a long while ago, and back in November. I finished revisions for a movie script and site (a link for it is on my profile, it's called Crystal Palace 2), I did lots of planning for my other stories, I also started some small fanfictions and had fun with that for a long while. But it looks like it's very safe to come back to He's There and try… maybe try… to finish it or something… by the end of the year? I'm not sure. I'm not promising myself anything, because inspiration and execution are complicated things. But I was so happy to finish this chapter that I had stored from November and I hope that it doesn't disappoint anyone. After all this time, I still have the people that supported me in the beginning. So, this is my "gift" to everyone watching me, and a message to let you know that I'll be spending the next month trying to plan out all of this plot so I'm not dragged down by uncertainty from now on. I hope some time in September that the weekly updates will commence.

Cookies to whoever knows where "sometimes love right where you hating most" comes from. ^-^

* * *

**HE'S THERE  
Chapter 24: A Shame**

The last day before Winter Break was predictably rowdy and free-spirited. Some of the jocks decided it'd be funny to put on Santa hats and carol for some of their favorite teachers in a very inharmonious fashion. They also did one for Mrs. Nakamura, the Japanese teacher, mainly because it's funny to see her surprised.

What can I say, I wasn't quite as pissy myself. Not that the circumstances with the roleplay or my grades had gotten any better (I'm pretty sure I blew the Scarlet Letter test), but because I could at least deal with my problems without being interrupted by that obligation to walk up the street five days a week and be gone for seven hours at a place that just grinds at my nerves.

I felt worst for Giry, who was there for the first half of the day, as she had scheduled any tests she had before noon so she could return home. She looked like she'd been hit by a bus, with a lethargic dead expression and a scarf around her neck to protect her from the chills.

I was going to visit her now that school was out and bring her an awesome flavor of tea I had found at the store now that she had me hooked. If only I could get through the swarms of students waiting for the buses and talking about what they wanted their parents to buy them for Christmas…

I had not yet even thought about what I wanted for Christmas. Laugh at me for it, but peace on Earth was generically good enough for me at this point. I just wanted to get along with my damn "boyfriend".

Well… no… I think I'm actually lying. The walk home was enough time to develop a huge mental list of DVD's and books.

Mom pulled up to Giry's driveway for the first time and studied the nondescript chestnut colored house as I stepped out of the running car with tea-box in hand. It was intimidating coming down the walkway knowing that I would be meeting one of her parents. I cautiously pressed the doorbell and heard it reverberate behind the closed door, then a woman swung it inwards and stared at me a moment. She looked so much like Paulina. Then I realized I had never actually announced that I would be coming.

"Uhh. I'm a friend of Paulina's, I was wondering if I could give her something, I-I know she's si-"

"Ok, yeah, she's downstairs," she sharply answered. She hurried to the side and let me in, then slammed the door shut and returned carelessly to the upstairs. I darted my eyes around and approached the dark downstairs hallway, remembering how difficult it was last time to balance myself on the steps. I could hear a television in the room where we usually talked and hers appeared to be open and unoccupied, so I appeared at the doorframe and saw her lying on the couch with a coffee table to her side invaded with crumpled tissue paper.

"Hey, girrrl." I attempted.

"Huh?" She asked without moving her head from her pillow.

"It's me." I came to the side of the couch and waved modestly.

"Oh, hi…" She was smiling, but I could tell she didn't know why the hell I was there.

"I brought you something."

I emphasized the tea box.

"I-Is that the-" She began excitedly.

"Yeah! I thought you could use it."

"Thank youuu…" She closed her eyes and squeezed some hair over her forehead.

"Are you doing okay?"

"I've got a really bad headache."

"Still?"

"Yeah, I know, right? I already took three aspirin, too."

"Damn… well how long ago?"

"Hmmm… half hour."

"Then it could get better."

"Heh, maybe…"

She laid there a bit and I stood there awkwardly. Eventually, she pulled her legs out from under the blanket to cool herself and revealed a pair of snowman pajama pants. They were adorable. I wanted some.

She saw me staring and shook out of her thoughts.

"Go ahead and sit down." I obeyed her and went for the rocker where I usually sat. "How were your tests?"

"Myeh." I didn't really want to go over that I had bombed. She would feel bad about it, and my apathy on the matter would just make me feel guilty for being apathetic. "How were yours?"

"I had a math and English. They weren't that hard. Math was easier. English…it's like… blah… I don't want to write a short essay analyzing anything right now, do I really look like I'm ready?" I giggled.

"It's just terrible timing, isn't it."

"Tchhh… you're telling me."

"Heheheheh…"

"…So… your mom."

"Yeah?"

"Not a very social creature?" Giry looked amused with her eyes shut.

"So many people come by here, the novelty has worn off."

"Hah! … I actually don't mind. At Meg's house, I have a second set of parents. They ask me how driving and school is going and stuff and sometimes her mom will insist on making me something to eat, even at the cost of Meg getting impatient."

"Cute."

Another awkward silence.

She went for the juice on the table and sipped carefully. I knew what I wanted to ask her, but hesitance got the best of me. No, maybe this wasn't the time… She didn't even feel good.

"I should probably go now… I just wanted to tell you I hope you feel better and hopefully next week we'll both be free to do something."

"Thanks." She smiled. "You don't have to go if you don't want to-" Maybe she was able to talk to me.

"Well, my mom's waiting in the car… She said she would wait around, but I don't want to take too much advantage…"

"Oh, yeah…"

"And I have work at 4:30…"

"Okay…well see ya…" I guess she couldn't.

"See ya…"

I stepped away from the recliner and came back to the doorframe. She seemed content rolling over and going back to sleep, so I hurried off.

Mom dropped me off at work after I came back to the house to get ready and have a bite to eat. Being in the back room, ten minutes early, I had nothing left to be distracted by. School was over, the test was over, Mariam and I had no struggles and I wasn't planning to see her yet… Giry was sick… It was just me and the fact that the Phantom and I needed to talk. And I hated that I had to talk to him. I hated that I wanted to know more, but he had said clearly that he was not going to 'fix' anything. I also hated that I was so hot and bothered when it happened, and then now suddenly I was just ready. Like withdrawal had killed my sense of right and wrong. He did not deserve this at all. He deserved to have to chase after me for at least another week before I would let another word pass his lips. And yet…

My text message was quick and to the point: "I want to see you today, please."

I shoved that damn phone into my bag and put it in its cubby.

Lastly, I took one look in the mirror, in my collared shirt and "Lily" name tag and did an enthusiastic double-point at myself like I was having the best day of my life. Then I came out to the counter to serve people ice cream for three and a half hours.

About two thirds of my shift was watching the clock and looking out the window. I mean I guess when you think about it… people don't want the cool refreshing treat that we're selling when it's snowing out and the roads are icy, and it's the evening. One of the older employees had seen all four seasons and said that's just how it is during December.

But I'm the kind of person that sort of prefers to be busy. Then I am not standing blankly by the register, thinking about self-injurious men that I have texted in request to rendezvous. And it was funny, because apparently I'm not good at keeping a poker face. I always thought I had the ability to look like nothing was on my mind, but my coworkers kept asking me what I was thinking about, in sort of a suggestive way, whenever I gazed into the floor tiles by the entry mat.

I didn't care at this point, though. My shift was over, and all I wanted to do was check my phone, fumbling through my stuff for it in an unnecessary hurry… thinking maybe, despite the time, the time which said it was far too late to venture out to meet said self-injurious men, that he had responded… but there didn't seem to b- 1 new in my inbox. I went for it like a vulture.

"I don't know if that would be possible. I'm busy."

I felt my shoulders shrink.

I was finally pumped up and ready to talk to this creep, and the creep himself wasn't ready.

I sat at the table by the door and looked out the window. One of my parents should've been on their way. 8:43, the phone read. So late. Too late.

Before I knew it, my finger, without permission, opened up a new text message form for "The Phantom". Totally without my consent, it clicked "I wish you weren't." Something mushy, and stupid, that I would never say to anyone, and there it was, sending and saving itself in my outbox. I stared at the ridiculous, longing words for another ten seconds before a pair of brights hit the parking spot in front of the shop. I glanced towards Andrea from behind the counter and smiled goodbye.

Mom didn't say anything. It was bloody cold out and the windows were fogging up, and my legs hurt from all the standing around. I could not think of anything at all besides what I had sent to the Phantom and if he was going to give me any kind of response. Though I see no reason why I would be important enough to change his plans… he was… busy… after all. Busy what… busy what? … Ruining another part of his body? Please don't do the fingers… Not that in my opinion he had nice fingers…

So what if he had a nice hand? That does not make him a good person. Being attractive at all does not make someone a good person. It does not make them trustable, or admirable, or worthy of your respect or time. I should have still been furious.

The offensive beep of a new text message broke up the awkward silence in the car. Mom arched her eyebrows at me as I got the phone from my bag, reading it carefully with my side turned into the window end.

"In an hour, then. Front of theater."

I had to read it about 10 times over to register that he really was offering to see me.

"Ok."

The only way to get out of the house and feel sure that my parents wouldn't come knocking on my door was if I faked being tired. We talked a bit in the dining room while I grabbed a snack and then I planted the lie- that I had trouble sleeping, woke up extremely early that morning and thought I'd hit the hay, especially after four hours at an ice cream shop.

I promise you, I didn't enjoy it. I don't like to lie. I've had to do it a lot for the Phantom, and each time, it makes me guilty….

The clock said I still had forty minutes to kill when I fell back against the closed door. I decided to take out my ipod and pace quietly about the lonely, dark cube that was my bedroom, glancing over and over to the stubborn, slow as molasses digital numbers on their hike for…9:48…that was an hour away from when his last text arrived exactly. I noted this when I picked the phone up from the desk and started going through our previous stuff.

… I can't believe I'd tried to say stuff like "I wish you weren't busy."

What was I thinking?!

How clingy does that sound? Everyone knows you're supposed to sound like you're really cool and have a million better things to do when the person of your affection is too busy to see you.

But… if he really didn't want to see me, he would not have cleared any time at all for us. He obviously sensed this was important, like he senses everything, because he must think he's on a role and he can just tell me he isn't going to stop doing psychotic things and I will eventually tolerate it.

Or maybe nothing he has ever done has been because he's having these thought processes.

He's a guy, after all. I keep hearing that guys rarely think or remember what they were thinking, if they were. That everything is basically instinctive, and the Phantom is instinctively a brain-twister that makes me melt into a puddle.

The thick black coat or extra layers of shirts I wore in precaution were never enough to keep a chill from wandering its way in and making the first step outside seem prologue to a very uncomfortable walk.

I looked up the shadowed street and all the places under streetlights that I would reach on my way to the theater. There didn't appear to be a moon, or many stars. I guess a few. This really wasn't the time to focus on how cold it was. I had to meet him.

Passing the park, I thought to myself how funny it would be if Mariam was "out getting the mail again". This was not the ideal time for her to wonder what I was doing. She hadn't yet known that we had ever met this late, even on that night after the plays.

I wondered if he was already there.

How he handled the cold.

He was probably in his usual three-piece, maybe a coat.

If I weren't supposed to be mad at him, I would've preferred to run into his arms.

Agh… the temperature was brutal. I could already feel my fingers numbing. I slid them in my pockets. I wonder if he thought I was an idiot for even asking to talk when I could have just waited, in the comfort of my warm, safe home, until tomorrow, or.. something.

Eventually I reached the top of the theater's street. Every inch of me confronting icy air, no matter how tightly I clutched to the flaps of my coat. Every step that brought me closer to that ominous rectangular silhouette had me wondering if the black mark along the edge of the balcony was a figure. Then finally it moved. Its top glimmered just a little as he watched me approach, and my teeth chattered, and something about it was completely uncomfortable.

Like we had had no fight at all, he noticed that I was trembling the entire time I came to him and tried to hold me before my arms rose, but I felt so much conscience in the action in pushing him away, like I knew I was supposed to be mad and would reject even those offerings which gave me comfort. The offering, however, was jumbling my recollection of what I was first supposed to say to him.

"We're not reconciling." I muttered to him.

"All right." He coolly replied.

I hadn't prepared myself for such apathy.

"Then what are we doing, Christine…"

I hadn't an answer. I ended up staring at his shadow against the railing, his stiff suit jacket, moving as he breathed. The more I studied, the more I realized that the bastard himself was shivering.

"We're talking…. Because we have to… because I can't just ignore you." He continued to try, and fail, at remaining completely still. "Because no matter what you do that bothers me, I keep thinking you deserve a chance."

"That makes two of us."

"I'm trying not to judge you."

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"Sometimes."

"I don't condone what you do. … I know so little about you. I'm just… trying… to get it. I'm trying to get how you think and what's behind your behavior."

"Why do you send me on such a rollercoaster?"

"…Why is it that things start going so well and then suddenly, you want me to see such a strange side of you, if it's even real."

"Maybe it's how I forgive you for your own things that bother me to no end."

Okay, that made absolutely no sense.

"But. But I don't get it."

"…What are you trying to say? That… that… that this is punishment? That you're trying to have me live up to my side of 'the deal' because you've… gotten to know me and are such a saint that you accept my problems…? Therefore… I should accept all of yours? All in a row? None of which have any similarity to mine?"

"…This is splendid. I hoped you'd figure it out."

"Oh, okay. I was right."

"You're always right when you actually take the time to think about what's happening to you."

"I… okay?"

"You calculate _just_ like I do, but only when you put in the practice. That's partly why I'm talking to you right now, Christine. I want you to wake up."

"Wake up from what? What do you think I'm doing right now?"

"You need to wake up from the delusion that everything is what it seems and you're just a nothing. You need to realize why your life is important, and why you have potential… And why we need to be together…"

"Okay, y-you're kind of. You're kind of scaring me. I don't know how this has anything to do with the fact that you've been scaring me half to death and cutting up your face."

"Hah! It…" (did he just go "Hah!"?…) "A long time ago one of the things that really made me like you, one of the reasons I still really like you… is that you will actually have a discussion with someone that you think is believing or acting on a completely outrageous level. You always leave room to go back on your opinion." I crossed my arms, fighting back an intense interest in what he was saying. "I think it's because… you're fighting to think, as I said, just like I do."

"But I don't think like you at all! If I did, I wouldn't constantly be upset about what you do."

"And then you beg for a correspondence and find out your conjectures were correct."

"…Godamnit." I uttered without thinking. He paused. "…Sorry. Reflex." "…Okay, maybe that's the wrong word. But I don't appreciate being predicted so easily. I mean… can't _I _make you upset every once in a while? Can't you think 'oh man, Lily, I can't believe she did that. How am I going to deal with this?'"

"It happens all the time. I guess I'm just…" He stopped mid-sentence. I could still see him shivering. "I just want to make you strong enough to meet the potential I've always seen in you."

I didn't know if I loved or hated the phrases he used to justify cornering me in a room with blood on his face. Or stalking me at all, actually.

"You're a piece of work. Why the _hell_ am I crazy about you? Really."

Without my knowing it until a few seconds in, I began to pace the theater's front porch.

"You're nuts! You're completely nuts!" From behind me, I heard a chuckle. I turned in his direction. "_Don't_ you laugh over there. I am _angry_ with you. Really, I am. You sound like a freakin'… bad novel. I-I-I'm curious-" I said to the dark figure at the other end of the planks. "When I ask this question, I just want you to know that I'm serious and not shitting around."

"Okay…"

"…Do you _script_ what you say to me?" This really got him into a chuckle-fest. I felt the corners of my mouth rising. "Were you practicing these lines before I got here? I'm serious."

"…No, I was not."

"…Okay.."

"But I do admit that some of the ideas I expressed were done so pre-meditated."

An amused 'Pfth' escaped from me.

"…Am I finally saying things that make you happy? What a change. I thought I only brought pain and misery to your life."

"Well! …I do admit that pain and misery are definitely involved, but…" He did not chuckle. I resorted to pacing again. "I don't know what I'd be doing without you. Truthfully… I'm not near ready to say goodbye, either."

"I said almost the same thing to you several nights ago. It made you angry."

I stopped a moment and stared off the edge of the porch into the trees. Tried to remember… He had said something along the lines of "you couldn't disown me now even if it was the best thing for you." It made me angry because… he said it in such a thoughtless way, maybe without knowing it. And yet… he was right.

"Sometimes love right where you hating most." I quoted. I wondered if he'd know what I was talking about.

"Cute." His voice replied. We were silent again. I was listening to the cold sky, unsure what I should say or what we were supposed to do after that, when he spoke again. "…Are you trying to say you love me?"

Holy mother, my whole system accelerated.

"No."

I discovered shortly after saying that word that he was missing. Always going missing, always… Always being a phantom, the bastard. I muttered all of this aloud and turned my back on the building. I felt sort of like a balloon stuck under a paper-weight. I looked up and I could see stars, ones that were never there before.

When I reached an area down the path completely shaded in brush, making me the tiniest bit uncomfortable being all by myself, my phone beeped.

"_Shame_." He wrote.


	25. Chapter 25 The More You Ruv Someone

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
**Okay, you guys -- I REALLY am back now! I've planned and everything. The weekly updates start now, although, I'm posting this chapter early because I'm too excited to wait, and will likely be working on the next tomorrow. I'm not promising another chapter in 4 days, but it's a possibility. Anyway, it's great to post again. I hope you enjoy it, and I look forward immensely to hearing what people have to say about this one, as it's a little heavy in content. Things are heating up, lol.

-Bow

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

**Chapter 25 - The More You Ruv Someone**

It would have been absurd to be in love with the Phantom. I say that not as Christine trying to pretend the feelings are missing, but because he must've been trying to rattle me asking something so out the blue. Especially since he has done nothing to deserve being loved at all. _Nothing._ In fact, he had done an excellent job at doing the exact things that should drive a sane person away and want nothing to do with him, which leads me to believe I _can't be_ a sane person, because I feel drawn to him like no thing or person ever before. Every new problem that arises, I feel exhilarated by the anger and the confusion, like I'm living for the first time. He was like the sting of the cold air I felt returning home. It would've been futile, I believe, to be angry with a force so powerful.

_**Erik,**_

_I'm sure you are fully aware that I'm still not happy with you. I don't think our discussion really cleared anything up for me, the only thing you seemed to do was insist that I can and should learn to deal with your weird behavior and your even weirder justification for it. That being said, you're right -- I do like to work things out with people. I don't like holding grudges, especially over issues such as this, where it's beyond my control no matter what I say._

_Erik, I'm going to be honest here, even though I'm not sure if you will believe me. I care about your well-being. Your physical and your mental well-being. I have been lead to believe that you're having some inner turmoil, and I wish I could help you, but before the help comes your own willingness to discuss your problems with me. The way you treated me for being upset about this was unfounded. I'm trying to believe that through and through your intention was not to hurt me, you just have a very different definition of normalcy. You have not flung the idea of self-injury on me, thank God -- what happened at the library was beyond your control. Overall, it does not pertain to our relationship. _

_That said, I want to make a compromise. I will let you continue with your shameless self-injurious ways without further explanation if you will tell me, in detail, why you have been, for lack of better terms, stalking me, and when it started (my guess is when I was a freshman, as you have referred to those days.) I want to know how you've done it. I want to know if it involves my friends. You don't have to give yourself away to me... It just would be appreciated if... I got a little more from you than what I have. _

_Stay out of the cold,_

-Christine

- - -

"Rahma, Lewis R" read on the portable phone the next day. Meg wanted to come over, with nothing in particular in mind to do, and my mom let her inside from the snow-ridden streets like a half hour later. She was amused to see me still in my pajamas, feet on the desk, playing Sweet Tooth. I'd been on all morning, truthfully. It was crack for simple-minded folk like me.

Meg walked past me and looked out the window. "I can't believe how thick it is out there, still."

"Mmm...?" I continued to play the game before her hands came landing on both my shoulders. She watched me play for a moment before sighing deeply.

"Oh, Lily. The one I know has gone far away..."

"Which one was this again?"

"The one that rode her bike every day, picked flowers and stuffed them in her pocket, had forts made for the secret club meetings..."

"Well it IS December, you retard..." She chortled. "And the secret club meetings stopped like three years ago."

"I don't know, I think we should have them again."

"What, so we can talk about _Jeffrey_?" I rolled around in my chair to face her and flutter my fingers.

She suddenly frowned.

"What." She pursed her lips and snatched the magnet-toy-thingamabob my dad had on his bookshelf.

"I thought maybe I'd have something to say to him before the break. I tried, too! Really, I did. I just felt intimidated because he was all distracted by this other guy, and I didn't want to make it seem like I just _had_ to interrupt him, just to bring up something stupid."

"What were you going to say?"

"...That we had the same Stewie pens."

I don't know why, but I just pictured the Phantom holding up a Family Guy pen, saying he uses it all the time, especially to write to me.

"Oh my God, you know what I found out?! He has like this little comic series. He took one of them out during class, and it was like _sooo_ good. That's not even a pity-compliment. He can draw!"

"You can draw a little too."

"He's like 10 times better than me."

Both of us paused a while before she sighed again.

"God, I hate this. I don't know why guys have to be so scary when you realize you like them."

"You're telling me. I pretty much just have to look at the Phantom and I feel like my legs are melting."

"Sister, I feel you."

"...Is it wrong that sometimes I just feel like hitting the Phantom over the head?"

"N-... what inspired this idea?"

"Last night. We were having a discussion that was sort of going in circles and I told him 'sometimes love right where you hating most'."

"PFFFfff! YOU ACTUALLY SAID THAT TO HIM?"

"It slipped!"

"Does that mean you love him now?"

I grabbed my forehead and grumbled.

"_NO! _I just meant I can't live with him or without him."

"_The more you ruv someone, the more you want to kill 'dem!~"_

"Oh God."

_"The more you ruv someone, the more he make you cryyyy!~" _She wailed, slamming the study door closed. "_Though you are try for making peace wit' him and ruvingggg~" _

"Mariam, stop."

_"That's why you ruv so strong you like to make him diiiie!~"_

She posed with her arms and legs wide, waiting for me with no relent to speak of.

_"The more you ruv someone, the more he make you 'clazy'..."_ I chimed in, but not very enthusiastically.

_"The more you ruv someone, the more you wishing him deeeeeeeead!" _We both swayed toward each other and grabbed arms. Before we knew it we were ballroom dancing. _"Sometime you look at him and only see fat and lazyyy~"_

_"And wanting baseball-bat for hitting him on his heeeeead!!! _Love!"

"_Love!" _She echoed.

"Aaand hate."

_"Andddd hate!"_

"They like two bro'das~"

_"Brothers!~"_

"Who go on a date!-"

Suddenly the door re-opened. My mom stood there at sight of me dipping Meg over the rug. I yanked her back up and we stood there just as awkwardly as she was.

"Hey girls..."

"H-hi..." Meg feebly tried.

"I'm going to go take care of some stuff, so... I'll be back later." She smiled. Meg and I smiled back and she closed the door on us. We pretty much doubled over in laughter after that. When I returned to the computer, I realized I'd gotten a comment on LJ from an online friend. It sort of reminded me what Meg had once said that I never got to ask about.

"Oh! Mariam... I wanted to ask you a _question_..." I muttered, ex-ing out the rest of my windows.

"Yyyes?"

"Let's go to my room first..." I lead her to it and locked the door. She plunked down on my bed, and I saw her noticing the suspicious amount of candles lining the desk, and my table, and the window pane. "A few weeks ago you said he followed you and Paulina to the park."

"Oh yeahhhh." She darted her eyes around.

"That hasn't happened again, has it?"

"Not that I know of. I just wanted to know if you knew about what he was doing."

"That's kind of what I wanted to ask you."

Meg looked a tiny bit exasperated.

"I don't see why I would. I don't know him at all. He was seriously just watching us at the curb and then disappeared. Like a real creep."

"...This was... broad daylight?" I asked, skeptically.

"Well, the sun was setting, I think."

"Well this is going _nowhere_."

"Sorry...? He's_ your _boyfriend." Suddenly things got a little awkward. "Maybe he was making sure you weren't hanging out with us? Wasn't it like... that week where you weren't supposed to talk to anyone?"

"Maybe... I don't know... Ever since that time, he's been weird, but he hasn't been controlling. I never felt like he was ever keeping serious track of you guys."

"Maybe you're wrong."

.

.

Meg stayed with me the rest of the day. We watched TV, finished off a box of teddy grahams, danced like a pair of general retards in the snow some more, and agreed that at some point during the break, we needed to make cookies. Sugar cookies. And chocolate chip. And as per usual, eat too many in a row and feel sick afterwards.

I was not thinking that Erik was going to have something to say so quickly after my email to him which I wrote at like two in the morning after the entire Adult Swim line-up finished and something in an episode of Inuyasha (I don't know why I was watching it, really) inspired me to finally ask.

_**I will answer all your questions, Christine.**_

_**-Erik**_

Okay. But when.

I decided to take out my cellphone and text him to ask. I happened to be walking downstairs when I did it. My dad stopped me mid-stride with phone out.

"Who're you texting?"

"Huh?" I flipped it closed.

"I said 'who are you texting?'"

"A friend."

He grinned like his interest had suddenly been lost and headed upstairs. I turned the corner just as my phone beeped on high volume and almost ran straight in my mom. I'm glad I only had two parents. If this kept happening during my conversation with him, I think the phone would end up shooting out of my hands.

"Lily,"

"Yes, Mother Dearest."

"Is there a certain day this week you want me to take you Christmas shopping?"

"Oh! Um... not really. Whenever's good. Is there anything _you_ need to get?"

"Are you kidding me? I haven't even started! How about Tuesday afternoon. I get off early and we can leave before rush-hour."

"Okay. Sounds good."

"And remember, you have that other paycheck you can deposit."

"Yeah. I didn't forget..."

"Alright." She looked me up and down. "I think I need tea."

"Me too." She looked like she was ready to head to the kitchen with me when I shied away. "But I'll be right back."

When I was left alone, I sat at the edge of the couch and checked my phone.

**"I'm sorry. Tonight won't work. I will come for you tomorrow. Around 5."**

_Come_ for me?! _Come_ for me tomorrow? What, was he going to ring my doorbell or something? Introduce himself to my parents?

"how exactly are you coming for me?" I asked back.

I came to the kitchen to see my mom had picked out a cup for me. I stood next to her as she watched the microwave and she smacked her arm around me. "Owe!" She chuckled.

"Mother... you are beautiful and you hurt me."

"Beauty hurts."

The phone beeped in the pocket between the two of us. "I'llll... get that." I laughed nervously and she gave me the raised-eyebrow before continuing with her tea business.

**"I'll be outside. ...Have a wonderful night."**

My shoulders sagged. I always seemed to pour my thoughts out to him and his responses were so annoyingly ambiguously concise. Was it just how he thought fit to answer or was he juggling a million things at the moment? I closed the phone and noted the simple environment around me. Although... nothing was really simple anymore.

- - -

On Sunday, Giry called me to say that the tea I gave her was delectable. I know what you are thinking. Tea drinkers everywhere in this story; it just doesn't make sense! If it helps, Meg does not like tea, and the Phantom... I don't know... maybe I should've asked.

It was calming hearing from her again, I missed her even though it had only been a few days. Much had happened that I wanted to tell her, but she was still sick, and I didn't have the time because it happened to be a half hour before five and I needed to 1.) Do my hair and find something decent to wear. 2.) Try to work in meditating to a calming cassette tape I found in my closet, for this exact purpose, that I thought I'd lost forever.

At five, my heart was panicking. It must've been beating 120 times a minute. I was downstairs, pretending that I would be meeting Meg (being a godamn liar. I know.) I was looking out the living room windows, pretending I was just observing the snow/wondering if it would snow. I couldn't take the possibility of him and my parents being in the same place any longer, so I put on two layers of coats and came outside. I just leaned there against the closed front door. 5:00 and already the sun was sinking fast. From across the street I saw in the black trees a moving part that made me squint. When my eyes adjusted, they found the faint glow of his alien mask from the street lights, floating in the middle of a shadow. My fingers fiddled with a necklace I was wearing as I came down the deck and crossed the street for that patch of darkness. As soon as I departed the visible sidewalk, the shadow creature laid his hand across my back and lent his other to guide me through the terrain until we seemed in safe distance from my house to return to the sidewalk.

"Where are you taking me?" When I asked, he didn't answer right away. My first word inspired him to look straight down on me and after the silence, I met eyes with him. His gaze inspired formerly-mentioned leg-melting.

"Back to the opera."

"Hgheh. You made me worry if you were coming to my door, and all along I could've went alone."

"I don't like that you come alone. It's too dark out." I looked down at my feet, recognizing my response to that as positive but out of words. "It made me uncomfortable that you didn't let me come with you when you were angry with me."

"I promise I wouldn't have gotten lost," I reassured. Going in to joke mode... because that's what I do when people admit they care...

"Sometimes people are dangerous."

.

.

He took me inside through the side door and helped me out of my coat, then lead me up the stairs to a gold-furnished "room" on the stage, different than the last time. I lowered to a chair and he sat beside me, slowly slipping his fingers away from mine.

"People can appear dangerous when they aren't," he said, moreso to a nearby chair than to me. "I would have, to you. Before or after I cared." I looked to him, and he was still looking at anything but me. "I remember when I first realized you even existed... It seemed that you were _stalking_ me..."

"What?"

He smiled with a corner of his mouth and thought a moment before his hand approached mine. I turned it over as an invitation and he clasped it, raising it closer to him.

"You were absolutely everywhere... You were a new face that was suddenly everywhere. It was making me annoyed. I didn't see a soul in you. I thought yours eyes looked dead sometimes."

"Thanks." I replied. He started caressing my fingers a little.

"So many people ridiculed you, though. You were an easy target. And you weren't trying to be... I've directed animosity at a lot of people in my life, sometimes without merit. It made me guilty to continue being so annoyed with you when you didn't deserve that type of energy from me, so I tried to stop. However, stopping the negative energy did not stop the energy all together..."

He stopped for a moment, and I found myself scrolling the red seats, trying to connect this prologue to the completely different chapter we found ourselves in right that moment. Whatever came next, he got what he wanted...

"And Christine..." I faced him again and he was leaning right over me. "Still I didn't care about you... _at all_." I retracted just the tiniest bit. "But you didn't try to change what made you so easy to ridicule. You were alive somewhere. I saw you perform. I thought it endearing," he uttered, almost like he thought everything he was saying was defiantly different than the opinion one should've had about me.

"You were my opposite. What we had, what we wanted, what we expected in the future -- opposites to the last possible nuance of the word. People scared you. You were hurt by their input... I couldn't imagine why when they had _nothing_... on you. I was so past that it wasn't even funny. I almost wanted to grab you by the shoulders and _yell in your face_."

"...I was a _freshman_, what do you expect?"

"I expected nothing. That's why I never spoke to you... You didn't need a Crazy anywhere near you..."

"I've tried very hard to look past our differences, if you haven't noticed."

"You could try and fail, easily."

"Well you could have _tried_ and failed to contact me, but that didn't stop you. You had faith in me, the way I sometimes, despite all offending logic, have faith in you-"

"You didn't let me finish."

I lowered my head. He reached over to move a lock of my hair behind my shoulder and I found feel it tensing up.

"So~ when I decided I'd never speak to you, it seemed there was still no danger, for either one of us, in watching..."

"Have you watched other girls you've liked?"

"I kept track of you because you kept me distracted," he corrected. He continued to stroke my hand and watch the floor, thinking how to continue.

.

.

.

"You were like my TV."

.

.

"I liked seeing your simple life take place."

.

.

"Things were not going well for me. Watching the Little Freshman made another day seem bearable."

"What year were you-"

"Sometimes people become projects. They're not amazing people at first, but you grow attached to them and pass the time trying to figure out whatever you can about them, trying to solve their problems inside your head... It's thrilling learning exactly who they are… staring at photos of them… They become so important to you, but to them, you're no one." The black dots in the holes of his mask locked on me. " Everything about them is up in a mind they don't know exists."

I saw the mind past the eyes for a moment.

"It's a little scary when you put it that way..." He slightly smiled.

"Of course it is. It may not be... acceptable. But it's personal. And it's just you and them. And what you _can_ do, which you shouldn't but can easily do all to yourself… you will."

.

.

"So is that how long you've been watching me? _All_ that time?"

"I had to stop for a while. I lost grasp of the opportunity I had to keep track of you and thought I should quit the nonsense all together. It didn't _mean anything_ that I'd grown feelings for you, _Christine_... Knowing everything about you didn't make my life better, or yours, inspire me, change me... You were useless _candy_."

I didn't like being called useless candy. I hoped that this opinion had changed.

"But... you didn't listen to yourself."

"I often don't." Neither did I. "I settled for the uselessness. We like candy, don't we?" I averted my eyes when he glanced at me. "I just wanted to see what you'd become from there. It would be like reading to the middle of a book and stopping. I felt like the book had been taken from me, and I was scavenging for the pages... they were_ everywhere_ you went -- so I followed you _everywhere_. Right behind you, sometimes... Followed you with Meg, to the park, to here, to there, when you thought you were alone. I found your screen name once as well." He seemed entertained that I expressed alarm over that. "I've sent you a message before, with a fake account, just to play with you. You weren't having any of it, though. I think you blocked me."

I laughed, just a little. I couldn't help it on that one. It was such a comic creep-thing to do. I wished that I could have found the log for that but until a year ago, I used express so my parents wouldn't know I was chatting.

"The more I learned about you, the more you did inspire me and change me. I love reading what you write and what you think, even about the most mundane of things... You capture the world in a way most people don't. It makes me want to experience it with you. It makes me want to know what you would say about me and how you'd interpret my behavior... When you seem dead sometimes, it's because still, what you see can't give you want you need, because you have a component of your soul that doesn't belong here."

Here, I could feel the melting sensation again.

"I knew this could no longer be what had quenched my thirst thus far. We had this connection, this…inexpressible one. The one between people that are nothing alike in some ways and identical in others."

"How did you know?"

"You get a pull to someone. It's not something you've felt with other people."

"...I was thinking nearly the same thing last night. About you." I said. It seemed to please him in this way you couldn't have found through his mouth or his eyes... I just knew -- we had agreed on a force that took time to discover but would never leave no matter how we fought it.

"I see the same thing in you. You're..." I was groping for a word that didn't sound like a 14-year-old's romance fanfiction. What came out what basically what she would've written: "You're magic, or something."

"I'm not magic."

"You don't feel like a part of this world, either, is what I mean. I feel like I have to keep you with me because.. you came from the exact same place I've been trying to figure out how to get to all my life."

The hand of mine that he had been holding, warm now from his grasp, was lifted over my head and when we stood up, some silent communication in the way he placed his arms told me to rest my head on his shoulder. He was holding me like we were dancing, and it was perfect.

_"It takes a lot of work to be, as you put it, 'magic'..."_ He whispered into my ear. _"It's worth it for you though..."_ _What_ were these words we were saying? If Meg had heard them, especially considering what went on the day before, she would be gesturing the gag-reflex...

"...Sometimes, Erik... It sounds like you are madly in love with me," I joked. "But.. it'd be-"

"_All too easy."_

I held onto him a few seconds longer before retracting. He was sort of smirking at me, but not in the smug way, moreso in a lost-in-his-own-thoughts sort of way.

"I don't know if you can yet. I-I really don't." I tried to reason.

"You're right."

I was glad we agreed on at least something.

"But I can when you start letting me."

Here, my brain and heart were suddenly in conflict. Feeling the hand on my waist, it brought about such a peculiar lust in me, I don't think I would've stopped him if he closed that space between our bodies. But standing here, forced to make the decision... if it makes any sense at all, there became an instance on that stage where stringing words into sentences was just too much to ask of me. My body was no help either. Everything, absolutely everything, crashed like a malware-ridden computer. Fuck.


	26. Chapter 26 Strange Lies

**AUTHORS NOTE: **I said I might have a new chapter 4 days later, for my official update-day, and what do you know. I'm still stoked that I'm writing this again, truthfully, with _MATERIAL_, even. There must be so many people that started reading He's There and then by chapter 10 or something they thought "NOTHING'S HAPPENING" and ditched this joint, so it's great that there are even _some _people that have a similar fancy of emotional foreplay as I do. Although, as I have written in my writing journal, when I came up with the idea for this story 5 years ago, and also when I started rewriting it with a slower pace in mind 2 years ago, I did not suspect that I was going to develop two characters that are so stubborn, socially disabled, and unable to express their feelings. Maybe this was expected of the _Phantom_, but Lily's a lot like him, which he has pointed out often and she has vehemently denied. It has made the kind of romantic action you'd expect in a story with this synopsis hard to reach and I get a little impatient sometimes, but it's not unreachable, and I do believe it is a good thing to earn something like a kiss. Some people take a while to succumb to lust, and even longer to succumb to obsession. I may be rambling now. But yes, plot; material; good. (And if anybody's ever curious, my writing journal is public, so if knowing some extra things about the story sounds like a good way to pass the time, by all means, you are welcome. It's at Livejournal, my name is Ladybows-FS.

Oh! And before I forget. I'm working on scene illustrations for a new website. This is the only one I have so far, from chapter 20 -- http : // i3 . photobucket . com / albums / y89 / lain5 / Hes%20There / chapter20 . png (without all those spaces) Being that there are a lot of scenes and I'm happy with most anything, feel free to throw suggestions at me of things you might want to see.

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

**Chapter 26 - Strange Lies**

I stared, quite like a moron I can only assume, at the sharp nose of his mask, all the way down its length, to a lip once studied when we stood together at the book shelf. I was like that hypnotized butterfly I had often referred to myself as in the god-awful poetry I wrote about us. He wanted something else from me or he would not have been standing there, gripping at me, which he did so powerfully only with his eyes -- he needed nothing else. I wanted this to be perfect, and perfectly escapable, and why I was half-craving the simplicity of any other 17-year-old's romance, I don't know. I only knew that this was not between me and a boy. This was between me and The Phantom of the Opera, something I could never take back and never forget. And I could never unhear those words, and after such words, what deal was I sealing in all this? I told him I wasn't in love with him. And-

From the inside of my pocket at the other end of the stage came a sound that, like something cold against my skin, made me gasp out loud. I swore, even Erik shook.

.

.

...Who in the bloody hell could that've been?! It was not Giry; she knew I was here. The hands around my waist rolled forward and supported my arms as I curled my fingers into the folds of his sleeves. He was silent as the grave, almost like he choose to ignore the phone all together. It continued to reverberate across the auditorium, every silence between no less tense than the ringing itself and finally stopped. I was sure he could feel my raising pulse. I closed my eyes when I realized coherence was returning to my thoughts, trying to keep it there with me in case this wasn't the end, when the phone began ringing once more. I rose my hands to me face. _"I am so sorry," _I spoke through my fingers. I stepped away from him, letting go save for our pair of hands, which slid apart soon after. I ran to my coat and read the screen. It was from Home. I looked to the Phantom as a plea to wait for me and hurried down the stage steps for the exit.

"Hello?" I answered very calmly. New snow pattered over my head as I slid slowly down the closed door, trying to control my heart.

"Lillian?" I knew this was no good. She never called me Lillian unless she was disconcerted. "Where are you?"

"I thought I already told you-"

"You told me you were going to the park with Mariam."

"I-"

"She just called the house, so that's not the case." I closed my eyes again, thinking maybe it might give my brain enough blood flow to deal with this sudden shitfest.

"I-I-I just wanted to go on a walk by myself for once."

"...In the snow."

"I'm not that cold. It's pretty out and I wanted to get inspired to write. And I knew you would never let me go alone."

"_Lily, _you can't just lie to work around the rules."

"I know, but-"

"I want you to come home right _now_."

"Are you serious?!"

"I'm not having this sort of discussion with you. You heard what I said.-"

"But I'm not even that far from home!-"

"Then I should see you in ten minutes, shouldn't I."

"_Oh_, my God..."

"Well?"

"Okay Mom." I said with a fake grin.

"I'll see you soon."

"Bye."

"Bye..."

Click.

.

.

I had to stare into the cement beneath my feet before I realized what had happened in the past five minutes. I went from something so... so... to this...

The fresh snow continued to twirl from above the theater's light into the forest, stretching into the darkness that Erik had taken me once. I swore I felt both he and I's disappointment at that moment. I wanted to throw my phone over the railing.

Impending tears speeding my goodbye, I came back inside the building to find him standing in what seemed like the same place, a hand raised before his chest. "I have to go."

He broke out of place and came forward. "I'll take you back-"

"No." He nearly reached me with my coats before stopping in puzzlement. "I can-..I can go alone."

"You don't have to-"

"You don't have to follow me everywhere... I'm grown up, you know."

The behavior seemed to throw him off, and I knew it did. He approached me with coat arms extended and helped me inside each one. He tried to cup the hand I was holding my phone in for a second but I turned away my face.

"Thank you." He let go. "...Goodbye."

I let myself out and speed-walked into the dark. I had to leave, and it had to be alone. I was so overcome with frustration, I didn't want him around me to even see it. And this was outside of what Erik had even just _confessed to me_. What was I even supposed to worry about first?

I can't believe out of all the nights, the universe picked this one to catch up on me for making stupid unprepared lies. I knew it mustn't have liked me at this point.

And people who the universe likes don't walk through the front door covered in snow because they forgot an umbrella, with two people glaring at them that happen to be able to punish them however they very well feel like. I tried to head for the stairs, but they weren't havin' it.

"Lily~" My dad called to me.

I stood there at the end of the coffee table, damp and irritable, about ready to agree over anything to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Your mother and I were talking."

"Oh God-"

"AHPE- let me finish."

I stared at him mouth agape.

"Your mother and I were talking and we decided... you're old enough go out alone."

"...Seriously?"

"Yes, but with a curfew," my mom said from behind me.

"When the sun comes down, you come home," Dad said.

"The _sun_? The best stuff happens at night."

"Lily, come on now... We know you're not a party-goer."

Oh, t-t-this was just great. My own parents were pointing out basically that I didn't have a life.

They looked away like they had ran out of use for me.

"...Aren't I getting in trouble for lying?"

"Don't do it again, or next time we'll think of a punishment."

I wasn't about to argue. "Okay." I ran up the stairs. First things first, I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a deep breath, then blew out audibly. I repeated this process several times before reaching my bed and sort of flopping over the mattress. I had a sideway view of my green nightlight before shifting around a little, as I was laying on my phone within my pocket. It seemed the most appropriate thing to do was apologize to the Phantom, who had, by Mysterious Phantom terms, poured his heart out at me. But the thing was, I did not know in which manner his words touched me. Was I supposed to feel 'warm and fuzzy', or was this inner Lily shaking her head and swatting her hands a normal thing when a stranger tells you he is in love with you?

Where does he get off, twisting up a poor girl's psyche so much? He couldn't have meant it, but what a strange lie that would be.

He didn't even _act_ like he was in love with me. Did he? Was that partly my fault? Was I pushing him away all along? I had right to, what with the crazy shit of his I've had to confront. Who would even _be_ in love with me?

He did not seem to be someone with his heart on his sleeve. No no, not even his heart - any kindness at all seemed to be stuffed deep. In fact, he has come off like he generally hates the entire human race. So _why_, why.... _WHY... _would he _ever_... even _think_...for half a _second_, that... that...

I cannot even complete sentences for why he mustn't have feelings like that.

They were never meant to be in my hands, either - they were slippery and I would drop them.

.

.

I still felt effected by the silence we had before my mother called.

.

.

.

Lust. I still felt the godamn lust over this man. This man I do not even know who makes outrageous comments left and right...

If we kept heaving encounters like that, much deeper and less conflict-ridden than the bullshit we'd started off with... and if there were no urgent cellphone calls to interrupt... I really _don't know_ what will happen.

I have never had to deal with this possibility before, with a guy. Even just a guy. Not a Phantom.

.

.

I wanted to hear a friend's voice, so I dialed up Meg. I figured earlier, when she essentially got me in trouble even though it wasn't her fault, it must've been important since I wasn't expecting the call.

I punched in the numbers and waited anxiously. Quite contrary to usual, Meg answered, and by like the second ring. She said that she had begun chatting with Jeffrey online because some acquaintance ended up knowing a guy that knew him, or whatever, and had his screenname... I had been through the whole "talk to a crush on the internet first" ordeal, and it wasn't a pretty one, but I didn't tell her that because I wasn't in the mood to be a critic.

She wanted advice from me, and I had no idea what to say, besides what things were creepy, thanks to loads of experiences with a guy who was in love with me nowadays.

Reveal who you are immediately, like it's no big deal.

Don't ask if he's single or not.

Don't suggest that you know more about him than is obvious or that he's revealed to you himself.

If you simply must invite him to have a real life talk or get together, be flexible about it. Don't insist it be somewhere that he's unfamiliar or even uncomfortable with.

_Do not say you are in love with him - _kidding. I didn't tell her this one.

Meg stopped me, anyway.

"Is this based on the Phantom?" She asked a little dryly.

"Well, of course."

"Yeah, but this stuff worked on _you_."

"I'm… a psychopath. We both are. I don't recommend."

"You don't think I should play Phantom on him? Get him all interested in me?"

"_No._"

"Too late, anyway, he knows it's me."

"Good." Meg was silent on the other end, save for incessant keyboard sounds. "…Mariam?"

"Just a sec." Type type type. "I think he's enjoying this conversation. Ehehlka;he." She laughed in a squeaky voice. I could practically picture her face, grinning satisfactorily with a hand pushing up the arch of her glasses. I admit, it was always pretty cute when Meg liked somebody, and I really don't see how she still hadn't gotten a date in her life. She was way cuter than me. "Do you think I should say I noticed he draws those comics? Or would it be too creepy that I noticed?"

"No, he's the one flashing them around. Bring it up!"

"Okay okay, I will."

.

.

"He says it's about a group of ex-ice-cream men that have to run away from some... evil... minions... that God sent. Because he's actually a jerk. Who doesn't trust ice cream men. And they hijack a bus?"

"...What."

"Ttheghehee, I should tell him you work at Baskin Robbins!"

"Sure. Maybe I'll get a cameo."

"PAH!!" She snorted.

.

.

"...He says we should sit together after break so he can show them to me! Oh my God!"

"Ohhhh!..."

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I think I'm going to _die_."

"Well then. I guess you guys have caught up to me and the Phantom…" I joked, mainly to myself.

She continued to type, pause, and type again, almost like she'd forgotten I was still there.

.

.

"Tchchch..."

.

.

"...Hey Mar?"

"Huh?"

"... Umm..."

"Oh! I guess that's all I needed you for, actually."

"..."

"Sorry. Really! I really wanted to tell you, but I just kind of... need to concentrate."

"Alright, alright... that's okay..."

"Everything okay over there?"

"Fine like dandelions."

She snickered. "Okay!!! HAVE A WONDERFUL NIGHT, WHORE."

"YOU TOO, BITCH," I responded endearingly.

It made me proud she had taken that chance. I could tell she was very happy when we hung up. Probably glowing like a pot of gold under a rainbow or some shit.

.

_'Fine like dandelions'... that's a good one._


	27. Chapter 27 Don't Forget About Me

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ** Can't say this chapter furthers plot, I've just found particular enjoyment in making Lily and Mariam express their friendship. It interests me what Mariam has to say about the Phantom, and vice a versa, which is a conversation to be had later. I'm sorry about the short length, though. I've been juggling writing this with watching Phantom movies for inspiration AND working on that site. It was all I ended up having by the end of today. On the bright side, I realized this week that my favorite movie-Phantom is Robert Englund now. I underestimated that movie for years (even though I own it), and that was a mistake. I thought the visuals at times rivaled the ALW movie. Also, I can't help it, but I love the really dangerous phantoms. He was supposed to be the bad guy, but I actually empathized with him because he wasn't just a mindless slasher, he was totally infatuated with her and had some personality. Also, Charles Dance - what an adorable firecrotch-Phantom. If there ever was one that made you want to hug a box of Kleenex (or preferably him)... His lair is beautiful, too.. I don't know why, but it reminds me of Neverland. Instead of a place he has to hide, he's made it into quite a sanctuary, still with so much darkness and mystery.

Anyway. I didn't get any illustration requests. Don't be shy! I'll take 'em whenever.

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

**Chapter 27 - Don't Forget About Me**

I did not fall asleep until very late in the night, technically the morning. Couldn't. I would get into a comfortable position, close my eyes... then a minute later I was thinking, and they were traversing the glow-in-the-dark stickers on my ceiling.

I don't know why, but I woke up generally uninspired to either receive or even send any type of message to him. I didn't know if he was disappointed with me for leaving, if I was to begin with even reacting properly to essentially hearing "the three words", or... if I was going to be cornered again, with a pulling silence. So I just avoided him.

It was easier to do than I expected because all I heard about the following day was Jeffrey. Mariam was also up all night, talking to him until her eyes burned from the computer screen. She read me nearly the entire transcript through her aim logs, and I have to say right off the bat -- she didn't pick a bad one. He seemed like he was actually nice and not talking to her out of pity or boredom. (Not that I worry Meg bores people... guys are just jerks.) He was psyched about taking Astronomy next term, him and Meg had very similar taste in music (which she figured by all his t-shirts), and he had immensely enjoyed Fool's Dance on the second night, even recognized her. He called me/Vivian "the fiery brunette". Tch. It made me curious what this was going to turn into considering how non-awkward their first conversation was. I don't know about her, but I was already ready to meet him.

Of course, I became Advisor #1, while Paulina was still recovering and unable to offer her services.

Meg appeared at our door, just to prove to my parents we were actually together, and we went on a Consoling-Mariam-About-Jeffrey walk later on, which consisted of both reasonable and nonsensical questions.

"Do you think next time he logs on, I should say something first?"

"Uhh..."

"Or should I wait for him? So I don't look like I'm too interested in talking?" She was following behind me with a sort of trot, hands in her coat pockets.

"Well... I mean... you _are_ interested in talking to him. Don't you wanna get the point across?"

"I know but-"

"If you don't _ever_ act like you're into him, he'll be a typical guy and never realize he can date you and move on to someone else. Unless he's persistent. But don't count on it."

"Yes, I know you know all about persistent men,-"

"Okay but still?! Don't you think I have a point here?"

"Yeah, but it's a point you never would have made prior to..._'Erik'_." Her derisive air-quotations barely effected me.

"On the contrary, I have not been very supportive of his romantic efforts."

"I hate that romantic efforts even have to come into play eventually. I mean just knowing that we're kind of becoming friends right now but eventually I have to do something awkward..."

"I know..."

"What if he realizes why I ever IMed him in the first place and thinks it's creepy?"

"...Creepy? You?" I flicked the diddly-bob cherry pin in her hair. "You don't have a creepy bone in your entire body. You just have a crush on the guy. I'm sure he can appreciate that, even if he's not looking for a girlfriend."

"Oh God, I don't even want to think about admitting it right now!"

"Fine! _Fine_. Relax. You haven't even met him yet. There's time, believe it or not."

"I wish I could tell him the truth, get his reaction, and then zap his memory." She made a popping sound and pointed at my head. "And then I'd just know. And we could keep being friends without feeling uncomfortable if it was never meant to be."

"I'm sure you'd use that memory-zapper for much more than just that."

Meg stared at me, mouth agape, then reconsidered.

"Eghhhh... yes. Yes, I would..."

.

.

.

"... So when did you admit to the Phantom?"

"Admit what?"

"...That.. you know... it wasn't just a one-sided thing."

"Actually, I never did. I think he just figures... 'she puts up with me. My foot is in the door for the time being. Fine by me.'"

We decided to approach a bench lit by a street light at the end of the main drag. Meg plopped down and gawked at me.

"Jesus!" She laughed to herself as a couple passed us, wondering what inspired her to shout the name of the Holy Son right at that moment.

"What?!"

"You know, from the sound of it, you aren't very nice to him."

"_WHAT?!_" I screeched, realizing a second later that a family in the window of a restaurant nearby was looking at me swish my hands around.

"Well! I mean really. I'm not saying he's that nice to you either, just that..."

"You don't know how I treat him," I convinced myself.

"Lily. Just the other day you said you wanted to hit him over the head. With a baseball bat."

"I was joking!" She squinted at me skeptically. "It was part of the song!"

"Uhuh."

"I don't want to cause actual physical harm to the Phantom. I promise. He was very nice to me recently and I intend to reciprocate."

"Reciprocate, eh? That's a strange word to use colloquially."

"Speak for yourself, Mrs. Colloquial." She stuck her tongue out at me and I mirrored her dramatically. "Or should I say, MRS. VANHORN." She jumped up and covered my mouth with her hand. I glanced back to the window and the little boy at the booth was still watching us. I decided to put on a good show for him and jump up from the bench.

"I challenge you to a duel!"

"What?!" Meg answered, wide-eyed. I could tell suddenly that this probably wouldn't going anywhere.

"I don't know.. Nevermind." She took that as good enough and crossed her legs, bouncing her top leg over the other and watching the cars pass in the distance. I wet my lip and tried to turn this back around. "Okay okay, what if... He just came to your door one day..."

"...Yeah?..."

"And he was wearing a full-on Big Bird costume. And he was like 'Mariam... I need you right now.'"

"What the_ fuuuuck!_..." She half-whispered in a high soaring voice, keeling over in her seat in embarrassment.

"Would you let him inside of your house?"

"I... I.. Yeah, I guess so, but... I'd be very confused."

"Okay but what if you tried to ask about the costume and he was appalled that you would even bring it up, because obviously he was there for a serious reason."

"He's the one that showed up in it -- the least he could do is explain!-"

"Yes, but he is in a state of passion."

She thought a minute.

"Okay... well... what exactly does he want."

"He wants to make love to you."

"I... I really don't think I'd be much in the mood for it under those circumstances-"

"But he says it's the only time you'll ever be able to."

"Why?"

"He won't say."

"Gee, sounds a lot like your boyfriend." I pursed my lips at her. "Well if he's that uncommitted, maybe I don't want to have sex with him."

"What if he starts making advances on you anyway?"

"I'd call the police?" She answered with a questioning inflection, like I had lost my marbles.

"Oh God, I just had this image of Jeffrey looking all melancholy in the Big Bird costume, inside the police car window."

Meg snorted.

"I'd feel bad, but, I mean... he had it coming."

I sighed. "True."

Suddenly an unwinding silence swept over us. I was staring into the foliage nearby and Meg was examining her nails. Eventually she turned in my direction.

"That really did remind me of your Phantom, though. Except replace the feathers with... plastic. Whatever it is on his face."

"I just pictured him in feathers, now. Thanks a lot."

"HAHAHA, if only."

"You know, his mask... looks a little like a beak. I mean just a tiny little bit. It being so pointy.."

"Oh yeah, I guess it was. It's been a while since I saw it, but I see where you're going." I don't know why, but it felt so strange thinking she and him had been in front of each other at one point. She hadn't really talked about it before, either.

"And I had this dream once that there were birds everywhere..."

"Are you trying to say he's like the symbol for birds now?" We both cracked up.

"I'm just saying. He's had a lot to do with birds in the past."

Oh God. What in the world? Only a conversation I could have with her. Only her.

.

.

.

"...You mind if I bother you with another question?"

"Shoot."

"Where did he confront you? I'm just really curious."

"It was backstage, inside the make-up closet. I took my coat off because it was fucking _hot_ in there and then it disappeared, and then someone said it was in there for some reason, somebody probably moved it thinking they were real smart... So I went and checked, and then he scared the living shit out of me."

"How did he do this, exactly?"

"By existing, basically."

"Heghgh. Really."

"No, I really was wondering if you even had a 'Phantom', and... suddenly he was all in my face. Staring at me. Handing me _my coat_."

"Telling you to lay off the investigation."

"Basically. Which is funny, because I didn't know what investigation he's talking about."

"Gi-... Paulina was trying to figure out who he was. She still is, technically."

"I know that now."

"Oh."

"What, you think she doesn't tell me _anything_?"

"No, I just didn't realize." Awkward again. "...I'm sorry if he scared you."

"No problem. You must be used to it."

"No, not yet, actually."

"I'm half kidding anyway... I sort of knew in that moment... you were the only one he'd ever be nice to..." I was not feeling confident enough in understanding his feelings to look her in the eye after that one. "You're his Christine... after all. Right?"

"The Phantom never hated Meg."

"I'm sure he'd off her if he had to!" I darted my eyes around. "I'd hate to think what would happen if there was a Raoul."

"Yyyyeah. There won't be."

"You never know. Some guy could just pop out of nowhere."

"No really, there won't be."

"Can you imagine? Two guys up in arms for you because of their undying love?!"

"No, I cannot. It's difficult enough having one. If Raoul comes along, I will have to tell him to go away, in all seriousness. With a face that looked like the one Squidward had in that episode where he was all 'does this face look unsure?'"

"BAHAHAHA~" She slapped me hard on the knee. "Okay fine. No Raoul. Only Phantom, never having to fight for your attention at all. Just don't forget about me."


	28. Chapter 28 Frozen

**HE'S THERE**

_Chapter 28 - Frozen_

_Erik, _

_It is extremely difficult thinking up what to give someone so secretive. I only know a few things about you - you hate people. You like writing. You write on lined paper. Which I don't find sophisticated enough for someone I'm sure has brilliant ideas but isn't telling anyone. So I'm giving you this book, to use however you like. Hopefully one day I will see it again, and it will be when you are sharing something with me. _

_-Christine_

It was at a store with the mom and the Meg, Christmas shopping, when I found a black notebook, small golden embellishment along the spine, that I realized it was twenty bucks well spent to surprise the Phantom with a gift. I had to pull a lot of suspicious shit to get it bought and out the mall doors without anyone noticing, I know the book idea wasn't awesome (if I knew him better, I would've taken more of a chance)... I was more interested in how he'd react to receiving it from me.

We had both been silent as the grave and it was now Wednesday night. I kind of wanted it to be a surprise, so I was walking to the theater, "on my way" to Meg's house to drop it off. I made sure to write "don't open until the 25th", just to give him something to look at without knowing what it was for a few days.

I noticed the strangest thing coming down the street. There was a car parked in one of the lots. Just one. I had never seen it there before, or if I did, I don't remember. If it were in broad daylight, I may have wandered near and taken a look inside or something... It kind of intimidated me in the dark, though.

By now, it felt strange coming here uninvited. He always made me wonder if he was around. No matter where I was, actually. This place was his territory, though.

When I reached the front, I got to my knees and set the white package down on the wood. The floor was cold enough to chill me even through my jeans. The second the book left my fingertips, a startling gust of wind swept the deck like a wave. I sunk down and eyed the area beyond the theater in every direction, studying each straight, silent silhouette for an unnecessary amount of time before I realized it was just me and the trees. I must've been paranoid.

- - -

Two days later, I hadn't a single acknowledgment from Erik for my gift, even if he wasn't allowed to open it, and I was too nervous to go and check if it was missing. Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to me for nearly a week and I found that peculiar. If he was trying to let me be after what had happened over the weekend, I had had enough _time_!

I kept hearing about the new stuff Meg and Jeffrey were talking about, and it just made the craving to talk to him _worse. _I would settle for any conversation. He could text me about the weather if he wanted to.

I hoped he wasn't upset that he'd confessed a great deal to me and I ran out on him, not even letting him take me home. I almost wished now that I _had_ let him. Maybe he would have-

Oh. Oh no. No. I'm done talking about this. He's a psychopath. I don't want him to hug me any more than he already has.

Except for the fact that I do.

- - -

For the rest of that week, I shriveled into my former Lily self. I read my books and watched my movies. This, I knew best. Antisocial-Lily of the past, that stayed home alone on Christmas Eve, even though her parents invited her to come to dinner with them. I didn't feel like it. I had been distracting myself with stimuli all week to feel more in the spirit of the holidays; more in the spirit of living my life; caring about Meg; _not _being effected by fictional entities (that were ignoring you, even)... I was running out of steam now.

The most appropriate thing to do that night, in my mind, was eat peppermint ice cream upstairs while browsing a "love and relationship" forum I had found, learning what other absurd things people were dealing with in the dating world. I knew, and I'm sure you know, that the thoughts and advice from names like "littlestar92" probably won't do us any good, but I had lost some dignity from this man. Since I couldn't seem to tell anyone what was going on, it was really my last resort to start threads on public boards titled "Men that admit they love you too early" and check every half hour for comments.

"sounds like hes really into u maybe 2 much. i'd say if u don't feel the same then it probably wont work"

Of all the things to crush your anticipation, this, horrendous punctuation and all, was the only comment I had gotten in two hours.

Every so often, I came back down stairs, deflated, and passed the time singing to myself, and at the tree. The whole house was dim with lights and figurines, and I would wander from room to room switching songs and mindsets. This was when everything felt right. Nobody I knew but Meg seemed to understand this frequent desire to shut everyone off and recharge. My mom always gave me this look when I tried to explain it. Or when I asked to leave get-togethers way earlier than my parents wanted to. I don't know why I am this way. Sometimes it would be a real pleasure to be able to turn it off, but apparently there is no such switch.

Around 8:00, I received the first text from Erik in quite a while. He told me to come outside.

Naturally, my first thought was "fuck fuck fuckety fuck fuck". The sky was black. I was unprepared and almost tripped on the stairs. I had to get dressed very quickly and when I reached the front door, my heart was already beating a mile a minute. With a mirror by the door, I placed my ear against the wood and looked my reflection in the eye before turning the knob and cracking it open, discovering there was nobody even there. I opened it a little further just for the sound of the hinges, hoping it might draw him closer. Still, the very small section of porch I could see was phantom-less. I don't know why I was doing this to myself. I let my eye see just an inch more of the ground and a thin green stick was protruding from the edge of the door frame. (what in the hell was this?)

I leaned out completely and looked down the front of my house. I realized then that my entire yard was covered in roses.

I re-closed the front door and stared at myself in the mirror, mouthing "what the fuck" to my reflection. I know I have been using the F-word frequently - it's the Phantom's fault.

I reopened the door. He still was not there.

If he had left all of this here and was gone now...

I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, approaching the roses and dropping to my knees to pick up but one and twist the stem in my fingers. The deep red was sparkling from a fresh layer of snow. They were real. And they must have been there a while; the petals were hardening.

This rose in my hand appeared to be thorn-less, but when I checked another, I found it thorn-less as well. A third was the same. It seemed that every rose had been de-thorned. There were dozens of them, everywhere. I found it hard, by the shape of my house, estimating how far they stretched, so I gradually left the doorway, careful not to step on a one, until I was as far out from the deck as possible. They stopped at the property line. I was smiling hard enough to make the shivering hurt my face. This was the most conspicuous gift I had ever received, one I knew I was never going to be able to explain to the other people that happened to live here. I laughed out loud just to see my breath in the air and whispered his name to myself several times, overcome with merriment. I wanted to call the bastard right that second to tell him he was crazy, (as well as thank you), but my phone was still back in the house - I had left it somewhere in ecstatic stupor. As I turned back towards the house, I realized there he was, hidden by the porch light, at the left edge of the deck.

O-o-oh.

"How did you know this is what I always wanted?" I joked.

"You're easy to read."

Tchheheh. I thought I was going somewhere with this when suddenly I was out of words. "...T... Thank you." I tried to say, but my voice seemed to get caught in my throat. How does one really thank someone else for showering your entire front yard with flowers? ...

He came close enough for me to take his hand. Like the petals, it felt stiffened by the cold, as though I were clutching a mannequin's.

"...You didn't have to do this, you know."

"Everything I do, I choose to." ... "It made for a very nice look on your face, didn't it." I was grinning like Meg did when I called her Mrs. Vanhorn. He shifted just slightly out from the dark and... he was smiling too. Not as hard as me, but it was a start. "A much better look than what I received a week ago."

"...I didn't mean for it to be that way. I had to go. But I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me. You know, when you said my eyes were dead, I-"

"They don't look dead anymore."

"...They don't?"

"No."

He paused.

"They're quite beautiful when they're alive. Actually." My smile continued, somewhat uncomfortably, until I realized I was just standing there practically petting his hand and he was still a distance away. He seemed content with it, almost, but when I rose my touch along his arm, he sharply inhaled and jerked free. I found that strange, the way he did it.

"Can-" It threw me off. He grabbed my hand again, realizing what I was trying to do and, arm first wide, set his other hand on my back, then drew his face, turned away, to the top of my head. ... I didn't understand the precision of this "embrace" if you'd call it that. All that seemed safe was lightly touching him over the shoulder and looking down the street.

"You heard me thank you, right?"

"You don't need to thank me."

"You _gave_ this to me and I didn't even ask for it."

"What I _gave_ you was a disappointment. If things were not as they were tonight, you'd have much more than this."

"_Erik_. You deserve an expression of gratitude."

"I got it long ago."

"I can't seem to remember giving it to you."

"You didn't give it to me the way that you're thinking."

"We could argue semantics all night. I still don't know why you can't take a simple thank-you for doing something sweet."

"...You're allowed to take from me."

"...What?"

He stopped talking so I quietly sounded his name. He didn't respond to me. Worse, his face was falling and a very cold edge of his mask was digging into my temple. The body loosely in my arms felt dead, really: no movement, no color, and no warmth. "Erik?" He retracted, still clutching my hand like he needed it for something. His stare suggested he didn't know how many times I had just tried for his attention. "You're not making any sense."

"...I've given up... trying to make sense. If you did too.. we'd have something very worth it, I promise..." He sort of muttered this to himself, thought a moment, and then raised my hand into the shadow of his cape until it touched his chest.

"Are you alright?"

"With you, always," he replied, seeming amused.

"...Then how are you going to feel when I go back?-" He couldn't come up with an answer. "Do you have somewhere to be tonight?" He continued to think, as if the answer wasn't readily apparent.

"...I'm already there." He raised a corner of his mouth. The way he did it reminded me so much of the night his own blood dripped onto my face, I almost felt I was reliving it.

"But you can't stay here much longer."

"I never can, can I."

Just then I saw up the street a pair of lights coming down the hill. He saw them as well. It was a danger to be talking to him out in the open like this, but I didn't have the heart to send him away. I'd almost rather be caught than cut any of it short.

"I'll make up for this another time."He loomed over me and I did not realize what he was doing until nervously, his lips touched and retracted from my forehead.

"You're freezing, anyway," he said. His eyes were hollowing, like they were departing everything before I could even tell him goodbye. The strength of his hand clasping mine died as he motioned backwards into a disquieting darkness beyond the deck. I was brought back to the roses. The scene seemed something I had discovered long ago and was finally returning to.

- - -

I came back in the house in a trance-like state. It was very odd. It was almost like I had drank half a screwdriver, except that I hadn't. The guy was acting stranger than strange and still bloody romancing me. I went upstairs, laid on my bed, and probably died a little inside before I realized I had to save and pile in my closet as many roses as possible before the parents were home to discover this odd sight.

And they did. I didn't have superpowers. I couldn't pick up all these roses alone. They saw them, and they also did not appear to believe me when I insisted this was a prank that Meg thought up because of some inside joke. We had done some funny things to each other before (like leave fruit on each other's doorsteps), but this one seemed too over the top for especially my mom to come to terms with. They weren't really that pissed off, moreso just confused, but I had anxiety just knowing what the real reason was, and worse, I wanted him back here.

The man who had faded into the dark, pretending he could not feel the harsh temperature, was somewhere he shouldn't be on a night like that - I could feel it. But more, I had never thought so strongly that his rightful place was with me before, and I couldn't believe that I had succumbed to this idea. It left me standing in the light of the refrigerator, resisting the urge to chug the wine bottle on the bottom shelf. I'd learned my lesson about drinking just because you're confused, and I still don't recommend it. In fact my advice is to stay in school, do your homework, and not get involved with strangers that can be nice enough to you that you forget they are cutting up their faces and stalking you in their spare time.

The Christine in me didn't give a shit. I had been fighting her emotions for some time now but they were bound to overthrow me. Being a little slammed might have helped.

(You know I'm joking, right?)

All I actually did was close the fridge door, wander back into the study, and wait for Meg to get on aim, knowing we'd talk about nothing important for a while and then it'd slowly lead into something involving Jeffrey.

I let that happen. I was very good at pretending I had nothing better to discuss. She didn't know (or probably care) that inside I was falling apart; that crumbling you feel when you can't scream out loud for being so astounded with something you have just seen or heard or... in my case, felt. It was better this way. Meg could go on being happy and I could wait for Giry. Giry would know exactly what to do now that I was too deep.


	29. Chapter 29 Compassion

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_  
**I'm sorry about the short delay. Our power went out yesterday and Comcast kept telling my laptop that it didn't have internet. Anyway, nya~~ here it is. I'm not gonna lie - Robert Englund-Phantom has been my inspiration lately... I've been drawing him lately in my notes, with me huggling him until he collapses. Feel free to share with me your thoughts about him if you've seen his version! I'm curious.

My last day of class is tomorrow so afterward I will have massive time on my hands to work on HT's website. It mainly just needs the illustrations now. I look forward to drawing them - I already decided to do the part on the deck from chapter 28. Again, still looking for more ideas. I don't bite! Really.

* * *

**HE'S THERE**

Chapter 29 - Compassion

I knew it was far too early to wake up, but when a dream jolted me conscious, I sat up in bed and couldn't stop thinking. It got my head running, and my eyes blinking away the sleep, and soon it wasn't enough to remain there in the dark.

I stretched and stood next to my window, flicking the blinds and watching the back yard. It was its usual box of ominous shadows against the fence.

It took a moment before I realized it was technically Christmas, and one of my parents was bound to be sprawled out on the couch after a desperate bout of last-minute wrapping just to play Santa Claus. One of these days before I move out, I thought, I should help them and then still pretend the next morning that some fat guy did it.

They said that they would deal with the roses later, and our Christmas Eve was filled with no less cookies, television, or opening that _one _gift beforehand than usual... I'm just inclined to worry. When I was done talking with Meg in the study, I passed my Dad in the hall as we were heading to our respective bedrooms and he gave me a playfully suspicious look. Their suspicion alone, playful or not, made me wonder if I had left any other clues about having a certain guy following me around.

There was nobody in the living room when I checked downstairs, but the gifts sure were. There was a noticeably large box in the corner (you know, the one you always hope is yours), but I hadn't brought a flashlight so there was no way I could check. Casually, I plopped back into the armchair across the room and rocked back and forth, admiring a cast from the moon through the curtains onto the carpet.

The way it glowed reminded me of dreams I had often when I was a kid. I used to follow a strip of moonlight into this world filled with crystals. I would come back to it over and over, trying to reach the top of this mountain but always being distracted. Like once, I found in the snow a toy horse that apparently was once a real one and would turn back if I took it to a certain place. I woke up before I got there, but I could have SWORN that the toy was with me in my bed, until the sheets spread apart in my hands and there was nothing.

Like that world, beyond the curtains, white was fluttering to the ground again. I leaned over the top of the chair and smiled. I had used the word magic a week ago, a bit annoyed with my inferior word choice, but everything mustn't have been anything short of it, when I reconsidered. What more could myself in that moment ask for that I wasn't already slowly beginning to reach? For the first time since I was that kid, there was a place where the light stopped hitting and the dark continued - a darkness that left infinite possibilities and not a humdrum shoulder-sagger of an explanation about something I didn't understand. It would not be understood, but I knew that only because it was too grand for me to figure out, or even predict. The way the main characters in my books felt: I was not directionless, but my direction was delightfully unknown. I had so many layers to unravel when before I thought I had not only peeled the last layer, but chopped the onion and had no idea what to cook with it. _I do not know where that analogy came from..._

Out of impulse, I came to stand in the moonlight I had been staring at the past ten minutes, like it might have some effect on me. It was when I rose higher that I realized the snow in the front yard was completely caked over the grass. My impulse was to open the front door while I was still in that state of mind, letting myself go like I were a balloon into my own perfect sky. This time I remembered to snatch a coat on the rack.

It did not, though, prepare me for what I found in the snow. Like they had wandered up to our door, a set of deep footprints came up the deck from down the driveway and across the street. It became apparent to me that I, in my dreamy state, was not the only one out and about at 4:30 AM.

I followed these with my eyes when I realized I had pranced past the doormat and completely overlooked a box sitting next to our little snowman statue.

I was all alone, so I was not hesitant to raise my hands to my heart and positively gush at the thing, before I even knew it was for me. I took one more look down the opposite path that the footsteps retreated before approaching the box and bringing it out of the shadows of the deck where I could see it. It was unpretentious cardboard. I tried turning it over, but it weighed much more than you'd suspect from size. Who even knew if it was _supposed_ to be flipped upside down... The search continued until a small red "C" became apparent to me on a lower corner.

Okay, this was definitely mine.

I couldn't help but glance back at the footprints, yet again.

He was being Raoul again and it still made me want to kick him in the shin, but in the way where afterwards he will be hurt and he will have no choice but to stay with me so I can feed him cookies.

What was I supposed to do with this box now that I had found it? _Not_ open it? Leave it on my desk so it can stare at me all night? I don't think so.

In the smallest chance that he was to be anywhere standing around like last time, waiting for me to say something I didn't think he'd hear, I squinted up and down the street. "I'LL MAKE YOU COOKIES!" I screamed at the air while spinning around and running for the door, not even quite serious -- I just felt like yelling something.

I hurriedly crept back to my room, sitting before the box on the floor with the lamp's cord stretching to accommodate, and a pair of scissors in my hand. I ran them along the edge until it was easy enough to rip the top across, and inside was another box, white and equally mysterious.

The top came out easily on that one. A Styrofoam case laid underneath. I turned it upside down and rolled it out onto my lap, but my hand laid over the casing for a moment and I deeply inhaled. It occurred to me that there was a letter in the bottom of the cardboard box that I had ignored. It was going to have to wait.

Off came the casing. Inside was, staring me in the face, a ceramic monkey. The craft was gorgeous - carved with a surreal detail and the clothes sparkling with glitter paint. This familiar face was sitting on a wooden box. I carefully eased it out of its snug enclosure and looked at it on all sides, even underneath, where I found a tiny gold knob. I didn't think before my fingers rose to crank it.

_Masquerade~_

_Paper faces on parade . . .  
Masquerade!  
Hide your face so the world will never find you~_

I think I was going to die from the level of cuteness this box was emanating. ...It sounded just like Erik's. I had wanted one of this song for a century and a half, and here it was, sitting in my lap.

_Masquerade~_

_Every face a different shade . . ._

_Masquerade!_

_Look around, there's another mask behind you!_

I think I may have listened to this thing like twenty times before I set it down. It was sitting on my carpet, still staring at me, when I remembered (having actually forgotten) the envelop nearby. He better have had a good explanation for charming me like this.

**"You're the only one who shows any compassion to me. Thank you."**

... I was?

It was hard to describe how I felt after I read it, having been in such a good mood and suddenly feeling I had read something with darker notions. It wasn't entirely the part about me being the only one to "show him compassion", so much as... well see that I have put quotations there. _I_ knew I liked him, but I scarcely seemed to show that to the full extent that it was... And here Meg says I seem to be mean to him, which made me defensive at first, but the more I thought about it the more I couldn't actually dismiss it.

If he deemed me compassionate, it didn't paint a very pretty picture outside the two of us. Did I ignore, get frustrated with, run away from, and call him psychopathic less than the other people he knew?

I wasn't sure _what_ he was getting at, but I tried to take the compliment. He had made today very special, and I was not going to let long pass before I found him again and cornered him with thank-you's, even though he seemed not to like them very much.

When I thought I had just about gotten the monkey out of my system, I noticed the name printed by the crank. It seemed familiar to me, so familiar I had to reach for my other music box. I learned then that they were of the same make. The only thing that made sense was that this was coincidence.

- - -

On the official Christmas morning, I came downstairs for a cup of coffee and my parents were amused with how bad it had snowed that night. Our house was like a desert island, except instead of ocean it was... well, you know. I thought this would be all I'd hear, but while I peeked in my stocking, Dad mentioned there were footprints on the deck conspicuously heading for our door. I told him I had no idea why. Weren't mine, weren't Erik's... must've been a gho-.... Actually... maybe it was Jeffrey in that Big Bird suit. I didn't know. It wasn't worth discussing now that I had all of this candy.

Anyway, what really matters, and you know it, is what I got this year:

Hey Arnold! Seasons 1 and 2 on DVD. So I could watch it all in a row for like 6 hours and feel like I'm nine years old again.

Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story DVD

1925 Phantom of the Opera on DVD (For some reason I never bought it and now really wanted to see it again.)

A Shrek the Musical soundtrack. Because after the movie-Shrek party I wondered if it was any good, and it was.

A set of bedsheets with little teacups all over them. You can imagine what delighted sounds I made at sight of this.

A pair of ruby-red flats. I LOVED THEM.

A set of bow barrettes.

Bobby-pins with "diamonds" at the end.

Some other trinkets from various stores.

A stuffed owl. I named it Charles.

Two button-down sweaters in navy and grey.

The big box I was talking about turned out to be my dad's, but... now I have a laptop apparently? My mom said she wanted a new one (she had had her other for 5 years, mostly for work) and apparently she succumbed to temptation while out shopping, because she wrapped the old one, and I stared at it and said "Mom, this is your laptop," and she said "It _was_ my laptop.

The relatives sent me a few gift cards for Borders and Suncoast's.

And for the record, I got my mom a 5-set of bold-colored coffee mugs that she had had her eye on, and a huge Sudoku book because she's addicted. I gave my dad a Fry's card, because he's hard to shop for, and my mom and I went in on buying him one of those back-massaging pads you put on the recliner. (Was looking forward to trying it soon.) And I gave Meg (because we had watched some together earlier, keeling over in laughter, and it's quite the inside joke) a The Best of Stephen Colbert DVD. Plus some little hairclips of miniature bananas.

Anyway, when I took all this stuff upstairs, I was sort of at a loss of where to put it. The clothes and jewelry I set on the dresser, Charles, I put in front of my pillow... the rest I didn't want cluttered about so I stuck it on the shelf above my bed. Since my parents were downstairs doing various things - I think my dad was actually COOKING... I fell backwards onto the mattress and cuddled Charles a bit before leaning to my side and opening the drawer of my bedside table and dipping my hand in to pull out an opened letter. My eyes fell on the curves of the red ink again.

**"You're the only one who shows any compassion to me. Thank you."**

I wondered where he was at the moment. Perhaps conked out from a night of wandering around people's yards? ...Had he left surprise boxes for anybody else, I wondered? Perhaps he was Santa Claus all these years and I didn't even suspect.

My phone was sitting nearby, still on, with zero messages. I decided I had nothing to lose in texting him.

_"Where are you?"_

I knew he would give me an ambiguous answer, just so we're clear.

Though I continued petting my owl and staring into his beady black eyes for a few minutes, Erik never answered.

I had breakfast with the fambly, listened to some of my Shrek soundtrack, checked my mail, and saw that Giry had emailed me to say she was sorry she had not talked to me in so long and wanted to know if we could meet the next day. Yes, _yes_! It was a miracle I had not shown up at her doorstep on my knees yet, considering what had gone down in her absence.

- - -

"Here, bitch." I said to Meg when she opened her front door, extending the present in my hands. "I had to walk all the way over here in this 12 inch snow, so you'd better like it." She giggled and took it. "May it bring about many lustrous conversations with your man."

"Oh, okay. That... doesn't really narrow down what it is." I crossed my arms. "Sorry. Here." She handed me mine, pausing in thought. "... You'd probably put Erik to sleep with this, but..."

This brought on more laughter.

"We're at a point in our relationship where putting him to sleep is probably for the best-"

"WHAT?!"

"No! I didn't mean it that way! I mean... I... if he's asleep, I can raid his pockets, and... find out... stuff."

"Oh, okay... 'Find out stuff', huh? You mean the way sex offenders 'find out stuff' after they give you date-rape drugs?"

"I... no. I know you _would_, but... diff'rent strokes, Meg." She paused. "Mar. I meant Mar." She shook her head at me like she was ashamed. "Uhhh. I hate to break up all this love we're sharing on Christmas afternoon, but I'd like to get home while I can still feel my toes."

"Oh... okay."

"By the way... um... and this is completely unrelated... If my mom asks, you were the rose-culprit."

"Huh?"

"I'll explain it later. It's... nothing, really." She stared off in space a moment. I'm thinking she guessed correctly what this was related to.

"All right then..."

"See ya later, Mrs. Vanhorn."

"...BYE MRS. PHANTOM." I turned around just to give her a surprised look but she made sure to slam the door on me just in time for hers to be the final word.

- - -

He did finally text me before our company arrived, but by then it was 3:00. Instead of any ambiguity, he told me he was standing on a roof, although he "doesn't know what of".

_"You don't know. ...Didn't you look when you went up there?"_

_**"I certainly did. I started somewhere else."**_

_"Are you trying to say you're lost?"_

_**"No."**_

_"...Is there any reason you're up there?_"

_**"To figure out how to get down."**_

_"I'd use the fire escape."_

_**"I work a little differently than that. Heh."**_

_"Uhh... shoot webs out of your wrists?"_

_**"While that's possible, I'd consider it cheating."**_

BAH!! Hahah.

_"...Isn't this kind of an odd way to be spending Christmas?"_

_**"It would be for you, wouldn't it."**_

Hm.

_"You should just come back here."_

_**"Back to your house?"**_

Heh. Heheh. I smiled.

_"Yes."_

Our replies seemed to come one after the other, but I waited for five minutes and he didn't answer for some reason. In the midst of me trying on my barrettes, my phone beeped again. I practically dove for it.

_**"I would if you really wanted me to."**_

Ay...I took a deep breath and glanced at the monkey.

_"I do, but I can't actually meet you..."_

I soaked in guilt over this before the doorbell reverberated throughout the house. Scared the shit out of me. I didn't have the courage to move, so I waited until I heard muffled voices, clearly that of my parents chatting it up with their two friends. My phone picked the precise moment of me sinking back into my chair in relief to beep again.

_**"Tell me whenever you can, then. I'll be there."**_

He was just _trying _to give me arrhythmia wasn't he?

My mom started calling me, so I turned off the phone and stuffed it under my pillow, then put Charles in front of it. I don't know why, it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

- - -

"Lily, pass the cookies around, will you?"

**"Certainly, mother."**

"Oh! They all look so good! I can't choose."

**"Just pick the one that calls to you."**

"Hahaha! Um..."

**"...and speaks your name..."**

I darted my eyes around but nobody got it/seemed to be paying attention.

- - -

The day after Christmas. I had left Giry messages to ask when I would see her but she never replied, leading me to believe she must've been having one hell of a holiday break. I missed hanging around with her, talking, about anything, learning what she was interested in... And yeah, it would have been the bee's knees if we could talk about Erik.

But for the time being, Meg was going to spend the night, and I hadn't really talked to her since we exchanged gifts, so I knew what was coming before we were even up the stairs with the door closed behind us. We couldn't even make it up the stairs, actually, before my mom emerged from absolutely nowhere and asked if she had seriously "done it."

"Oh yesss... all me..." She awkwardly confessed, clearly discomforted that she had admitted to doing any number of things that I hadn't told her about yet.

"It was based off something. Yeah."

We weren't very convincing, but who else exactly was my mom supposed to point the finger at.

"Alright... but if you had asked me, I'd say it was a boy."

"That's part of the joke!"

"No no no no, _I_ was wooing Lily."

"Oh! Yeah. Yes. We're lesbians now."

My mom just stared at us.

"T-that's why you caught us dancing earlier. The dynamic of our friendship has um... changed a little." Mariam coughed very loudly. "Bye." I yanked Meg into my room and slammed the door shut. We remained still as statues. She gave me a look nobody else could do with the same effect until I finally caved and told her what had happened.

"He covered your yard… in roses." I gave her a confirming stare. "How come I didn't see this?"

"Honestly, they were only there for like a night."

"Did you have to pick them up or something?"

"No, they, they.. t-they.." She raised her eyebrow at my stuttering. "Actually, they just disappeared."

"…"

"I-I think he got rid of them in the wee hours."

"Wow."

"I saved some, though," I assured her, stepping back to the closet and sliding the door. The pile sorta flooded onto the carpet. Meg's eyes enlarged. When she looked at me I was just smiling at her.

"He's got you," she informed me. I broke out of my smile.

"What?"

"You would have never given me that look about something like this a few months ago." I shook my head.

"I-I think it was a charming gesture. Don't you?"

"Oh yeah… it's very charming… Guy hanging around your front yard in the middle of the night while you're asleep."

"He did it to surprise me!"

"I think he sounds obsessed, frankly."

"Mariam!" I actually put my hands on my hips.

"You gotta take a joke, Lily." My shoulders sagged.

"Yeah well… You should take things more seriously!" I countered, but it seemed the both of us were having a difficult time being serious, looking each other in the eye like that. Meg averted hers, almost strategically landing on the monkey. Her mouth dropped a little.

"Oh my God, did you get that for Christmas?!" She ran over and laid her hands all over it. When she started to turn it backwards, I found myself hovering around her as she inspected. "This is beautiful… didn't you say you wanted one like this?"

"Yeah."

"That's so cool…they even found the same kind as the other one they got you… At least, it looks like it."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Meg took a moment to tap the top of Red Death's head on my other before turning the knob on the monkey. She hummed along as the cute Masquerade pinging filled the room and looked at me. I tried to flicker a smile, but I couldn't hide my unease.

"…What." I slowly shook my head at her like I didn't know what she was talking about.

"Nothing."

"Oh… sorry… I forgot you don't like people touching your Phantom stuff."

"No! No… really… by all means." I said this while plucking it from her and walking with it under my arm towards my closet to bend down and gather the roses.

"Lily…?"

"What?" I was adjusting the pile but turned around to her. She just shrugged at me, so I continued. Although afterwards, I felt a little guilty that I was keeping something so trivial from her. Of all the things that had happened with him, why was a music box on my list of avoided topics?

"Um..." While she was reading the back of one of my new DVD's, I came up next to her again and set down the monkey, displaying some unexpected perfectionism in returning it to its right position. "This was a gift from him, actually..."

"Seriously?" The way she asked contained no hints of previous skepticism or derision. I looked her in the eye and she was not even cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Oh... That's..." I waited. Very curious what word she would use. "He picked a perfect gift for you."

"Heh..."

"Doesn't look _cheap_, either."

"Heh. No. I think my first one was like $60, but I'll have to ask my parents."

"Speaking of gifts, did you like mine?"

"Oh! YES. Of course!" I pointed to the peppermint-colored candles on my window pane. "I'm almost afraid to burn them, they're so cute!" Her face lit up like Christmas lights. "And the book... I can't wait to read it.. thank you..."

"Yeah and thanks for the hardcore Colbert."

"But of _course,_" I replied, particularly French-like.

"Oh my _God_, you got an OWL, TOO!" She shrieked out of nowhere. "IT'S SO CUTEEE."

"Its name is Charles," I explained as she cuddled it. I could tell that this thing was going to become our child or something.

"... What got you to name it Charles?"

"Dance-Phantom. I felt bad for not giving him enough attention recently. And I just saw his face in that owl when I saw it."

She stared at it long and hard.

"You and your phantoms and your birds..."

"I-I-I wasn't trying to!"

"Come now, my child," she whispered into my ear, hand on shoulder, "we have a marathon of Hey Arnold complete with commentary ahead of us."


	30. Chapter 30 Goodbye to 2006

**AUTHOR'S NOTE  
**Hey guys. :D Yes, I know I'm a week and a half late. I've been on Winter Break, and I have the website to work on, so I'm allowing myself to be a little sporadic with updates so I can get it done before 2010. I haven't heard much from readers, so I figured nobody'd mind.

That said, I'm excited because this is the end of I guess what you'd call Part 1. Sometimes books have two parts? It's half done! Blah~~ I have some weird stuff planned, and I think I've done enough set-up. It would work now! And thank Rob-Phantom and Charles-Phantom for the inspiration. I love them. 3 I also realized Rob is probably the closest interpretation to my Phantom. (Yeah, for those of you who've seen him, you're probably scared now. Sorry!)

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 30 - Goodbye to 2006

The whole floor was flooding, but the water started in the center and moved out, almost like the middle of the room was sunken. I couldn't open the door, and for some reason my vision wasn't clear. When I turned around, I made out The Figure at the deepest point in the water, but his body seemed to be going under. The black clothing he was wrapped in was spreading out at the surface, and underneath was just the shape of a man made out in a raspberry red - almost like jam - he was falling apart and soon the water was a soup of him, I guess you could say. It started building up around my ankles. It was hot. I shook the knob of the door vigorously now, my hair whipping over my shoulders and in my face. Like it was no doing of my own, my knees swayed down and I was receding into the center of the floor. The liquid grew thicker, with human parts; I began struggling with arms, everywhere, trying to suffocate me. It seemed the only way to counter them was to raise my legs to the ceiling and spring upwards. I had to repeat this several times before the pool of red became the same puddle in the bathroom. The arms were scattered around me as I stood. My only escape was a vent at the top of the stall. Somehow I had the ability to climb up and jump through.

Through the ceiling, I crawled, which became a tighter place as I went along, until I dropped and landed square on my shoulder in the middle of a black hallway that faded into the dark on either side. Suddenly Erik (my Erik), strolled into view. He extended his hand and helped me up. He asked if I would like to go read with him and I asked if he had any clue what I had just been through. He said that he did know, because a "version of him" had just "collapsed" in the other room. I mentioned that this "version" grew tons of arms and tried to drown me. He said he thought I had already been drowned. I said no and for some reason tore off his mask, and he was hiding the same gelatin-red composition as his other, and he was so surprised/angry with me that his eyes were popping out of their sockets. Then he fell and started throwing up blood. I was so sickened by it that I screamed for him to stop, as if he had been doing it on purpose, and started running down the hall. I saw myself running from the front as if I were someone else but could still feel my legs treading.

This is when I woke up, just as hot as I felt in the dream while I was in Erik soup. You and I both are out of luck deciphering the message in all this. But while my dream was very nonsensical in itself, real life was only so much clearer.

When I turned to my side and found Meg on the floor, still out like a light, I gently rose from the bed and walked past her, phone in hand, to head for the bathroom. It was only 9:30, but we'd been up until two making each other laugh in the darkness, with occasional orders from my parents to keep it down. I told countless Jeffrey jokes and scenarios and she made fun of Erik for being such a creep. She wanted to know what was the furthest I had ever gone with him and I admitted to once curling up in his lap, which seemed to have happened so long ago, I couldn't remember what we talked about. It had never happened again because we just weren't very physical people.

Of course, having this conversation, having someone insist that I was crazy about him, made me realize... I could barely stand that there was...s-something between us... and the world kept cutting us off. I know you've heard all about this, but just try to put it into perspective... you know a guy for three months and the most time you've spent with him is an hour and a half, on a generous day. In retrospect, half of those three months you were probably arguing, and a couple weeks were just sending scraps of paper to each other.

I could have sworn the universe was trying to tell me we were not meant to be - that we were urging two magnets of the same polarity together.

He tells me he's on a roof, and I want him in my room. I don't want to think all the things he must be doing out there.

And what about his face? Three months later, his mask IS his face to me, and it's unsettling almost, even though I know he's my Phantom... that I had gotten so used to it. My interest in knowing what he actually looked like under that mask had been dwindling, until my mind had the audacity to dream that I was ripping it off...

- - -

"Na-na na-na na-na na-na, na-na na-na na-na na-na, Spiderman! ..._Spidermannn." _

"Here comes Peter on the clothesline, but his name's not Peter, it is Spiderman! ..._Spidermannn."_

No song was more appropriate as I came down the hallway, ten minutes before Giry was to arrive, after finally making the plans.

"Come on, Lois, let's get busy, maybe in the garden, right here. Spiderman! ..._Spidermannn!_"

"Touch my _can_, with your_ hand, Spidermannn!"_

_"LILY~!"_ My mother's voice fluttered somewhere behind the hallway door as I searched for a coat. When I wandered into the kitchen, a piece of paper was in my mom's hands that she held more like a dead fish than anything else, but for some reason she was smiling. This is what she did when she was extra frustrated.

Of all the mail I had received that I didn't want her reading, God thought my grades sounded like fun.

Art – A

Acting 3 – A

History – B  
Science – C+  
English – C-  
Math - F

I explained that the Science grade was nearly a B, that my English grade would go up after Winter break because I usually loved English and we were starting the Great Gatsby unit...

As far as math goes, I told her point blank that I just really _really_ hate it and had thought of some better ways to spend my time.

No dice. She gave me that look that makes you know you've really screwed up and there's nothing you can do to redeem yourself, except stay after when school starts again to bring up your F, side by side with Mr. Darelle. Alone, in the classroom. Talking about numbers. I just couldn't wait.

- - -

"...I think it's pretty unlikely that he's... actually in love with you, Lily." Giry admitted, instead of looking at me, watching the ice turn in her drink as she swirled the straw. I looked around the shop to make sure no one was paying much attention and turned back to her, bringing my sweater in under my crossed arms.

"Why would he say it, then?"

"Well... isn't it his character to love yours?"

"I know, but... I guess I've forgotten that the two are separate. Ighg- I mean he really... eh.. I just don't know anymore. There's no switch. He's just Phantom. All the time."

"True, but you don't see him anywhere else. He has to be the Phantom all the time to you."

"I know, and it's not even that, that makes me feel that he's making everything overlap.... it's when he talks about me... _Me-_me... He calls me Christine, but that's about as much as it gets. He's mentioned school... he called me a Freshman numerous times. It's pretty well implied."

She didn't seem to have an answer readily apparent.

"Well... it would make a statement like 'I love you' all the more ambiguous, wouldn't it."

"He didn't say 'I love you' per se... He actually... only said... 'It would be very easy to be in love with you' or something to that effect."

"Guys don't say stuff like that with a meaning any more complex in mind, hun."

"Okay," I replied a little uncomfortably. "Well whichever way he means it... what do I say?"

"Well what _have _you said?"

"He looked like he wanted to kiss me," I muttered, sinking into my seat. "And I freaked out and... didn't do anything. And then my mom called me and ordered me to come home."

She paused.

"...Yikes."

"Yeah... And then he was gone for almost a week. And I left him a gift in that time that he has never mentioned again."

"...You haven't seen him since then?" She seemed like she was actually concerned things went down so poorly.

"Actually... I thought he might've been frustrated with me until Christmas Eve, when he showed up at my house after covering my yard with flowers-"

"I MISSED THIS?!" She seemed shocked and delighted all at once. I looked around again. Nobody even looked up besides a girl working the espresso machine behind the counter. I scooted closer to Giry.

"And Meg took the blame for it-"

_"Oh my __God__!"_

"And Erik said... he had more planned, but... couldn't... and he seemed... exhausted. And freezing... and I don't really know _what _was wrong with him..."

"Love-sick, it sounds like, hahahah-"

"He almost seemed it, Giry..."

"What did he say?"

I was too embarrassed to bring up the comment about my eyes. If you hadn't been there, it'd sound like an awfully bad pick-up line.

"Well... A mixture of weird things and compliments... as per usual... And he wouldn't let me thank him for said flowers."

"Why not?"

"At first it was because I had already thanked him apparently, then it was because I should be able to 'take things from him'... then we bickered."

"So you guys were adorable, basically."

"I... But he didn't mention anything about... you know... being in love with me or anything again... Actually, he seemed surprised in a bad way when I tried to touch him."

"Uhhh..."

"I don't really know why."

"Your Phantom's bipolar. At least to my knowledge."

"Perhaps he really is... he seems highly interested in abnormal psychology after all..."

"Yeah, I'm still kind of lost on what he was exactly expecting from you..."

"After we bickered, he kissed me on the forehead-" I uttered. That's all I was going to say - I wasn't even going to mention the music box. She was already staring me like if she stopped holding onto the table, she might fall backwards and hit her head. The fact that I had never hit mine was miraculous, too.

"......I need to find out who this guy is."

"You most certainly do," I echoed, but not very enthusiastically. "Although... he's said some things that make me think... he really doesn't go to our school... I'm afraid he's older than me."

"I think so too, actually. But not by much."

"But-"

"And if he's not going to school, then that would explain a lot, because I've looked high and low for him, and _nobody_ has that hair... and nobody would be able to walk around with all those marks on his face."

"You have a point, but... it's not like he just... never leaves his house, or the theater. He's made it known that he goes places. Just a couple days ago he told me he was standing on a roof."

"Maybe he wears the mask everywhere."

"Hmph... " I thought a moment. "...You know, I can't even remember telling you about what he does to his face. I think I'm getting old."

"Oh, heh-"

"Wait... so you really think he _is_ cutting up his face."

"Well... I don't know."

"I mean by your logic, which is probably a lot better than mine, he's just trying to fit the role. He could've faked it all to make me think he's hiding something under there. Maybe in public he doesn't have to wear it, and he... I don't know... puts his hair in a hat or something.

"Maybe, and when you think about it... whether he wears the mask or is all cut up, he's easy to distinguish that way. Which is why it would be smarter for him to have faked the cutting than to have gone through with it. Not that I'm saying he didn't do it."

"He's admitted to um... committing some self-injury, though-... that could've been a lie too."

"It'd be easy to check-"

"-No. I don't think it would. He's covered head to toe and I'm not taking the chance of pissing him off by yanking up his sleeve-"

"One of these days, you never know..."

"...Is there a point in lying to me about all this?-" She looked at me like I was going crazy. "Oh, yeah... he's... trying to be Erik..."

"...You're forgetting over and over that he's not really Erik, Lily..." Oy. She just laughed at me when something in my face showed I realized. "He's got to be a very good actor to keep you on the edge of your seat like this... Either that or he's crazy about you and you're egging him on... You just have to decide... if you really _want_ to egg him on anymore."

"I'm not even egging." The word sounded funny once I said it, enough to make me laugh, but I was trying to say something serious to her. "No matter who he's really being, I want to stay with him right now. I really do..."

"Then stay."

"I should?"

"Yes. And we'll find out who he is."

"Heh..." I made it seem like I was happy the endeavor continued...

The truth is, I didn't know anymore if I wanted to unmask him.

- - -

Giry was invited to a party and could not join Meg and I for New Years, but we wore cheap cardboard "2007" crowns on our heads and sat on her porch watching other people's fireworks. We were in a very silly mood and the parents let us have at the champagne, so when I went to the bathroom with phone in pocket, I texted Erik to say "I bet you'd have a nice view of the fireworks on that roof you were talking about." We did not stop texting each other the rest of the night. Even Meg knew I was distracted.

Then later, when our night reached a close, he called me. I told him everything was sort of a perfect mess at the moment, and he told me it was something to be envied, and it was very easy to fall off the tight rope of perfect and have only the mess part. He also told me he had the notebook I gave him. He was trying to think of something he could write in it that he could give back to me, and we could share the book to try to communicate things that were difficult in person. I thought that sounded lovely.

His voice was something addictive to listen to, just lying there in bed. He could articulate without sounding mechanical, like me. He seemed calm no matter what. He wasn't singing but my brain seemed to register it as such.

I didn't realize I had fell asleep on him until the clock read with a two instead of a one, but there was no dial tone. I asked if he was still there and said I thought I'd fallen asleep. There was no response. "Goodnight, Erik..." I tried. I held the phone in front of me, about to flip it closed, when I heard something on the other side and the time of our call blinked and remained at 2 hrs 31 minutes.


	31. Chapter 31 Unfamiliar Air

**AUTHOR'S NOTE  
**You guys haven't had anything new in three weeks, so I'm posting this 4 days early! You (mostly?) know why I've been gone from the _writing_ scene of He's There, although it's sad because I didn't hear anything from anyone about the website and I wanted to impress you guys more than anyone. It's still sitting in my profile so go visit it! :D

Anyway, I'm back on regular updates, so expect a new one either this Sunday or the following Sunday. I can't promise I can pull something out of my ass that fast with the schedule I plan to have in the next couple days, but you never know. Things are happening soon so I'm in the mood to just GET TO THEM already.

I hope I'm not boring anyone to death...

-Bow

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 31 - Unfamiliar Air

On the first day back to school, I got ran into by Drake O'Keefe, who was running down the hall with his sweatshirt covering his head. He slammed me into a locker and I dropped my notebook, which was a very bad thing to happen, because I had been storing, cough, notes in there of certain value to me. To add insult to injury, he quickly retaliated (having tripped himself) and ran back to his friends, who greatly valued the entertainment in all this, as if I were a television character rather than real person who'd probably get a gigantic bruise on her right arm and was pretty pissed off.

This was really a cherry to the morning, if I do say so myself. It was no picnic waking up at 7:00 again, having to actually worry about what I looked like, and having the special talk about bringing my grade up with Mr. Darelle after class, which he decided had more important details than punctuality would allow, consequently making me late for Science... I-I'm sorry, I'm trying to be less of a cynic - it gets me nowhere - it's really a waste of energy. I guess if I think hard enough about it, there were positives to this day. The snow had melted enough to make for a safe walk up the street, classes were easy since we were getting back into the general motion, and I'd had a slammin' bowl of Captain Crunch that morning. Also, I was starting Stage Crew this semester, along with Humanities, which I'd heard was a great class with an interesting teacher, Mr. Frackson.

Acting 3 replaced my Art slot, and I wouldn't terribly miss it, even though it gave me time to work on completely unrelated projects.

Oh, and I guess I should mention, I'd been getting texts from Erik every day. Not even very confusing ones, just these weird ones that you could call 'nice', like "have a good night's sleep" and "come visit me after your first day"... Strange how that is now. I wanted to say similar things back but didn't know how to. "Sleep well, don't fall off any roofs"?

Speaking of texting though, I had to leave Meg a number of reassuring messages this morning just to get her to step foot in the building over this Jeffrey business. She had serious anxiety over this boy, not that I blamed her, but I was really hoping this awkward maybe-he-actually-hates-me phase would run its course quickly.

Once all my papers were back in order, I stood up and darted my eyes around in question of the stares. They proceeded with their doings like it had never happened, and I wanted to forget about it too, so I went to the Usual Spot during lunch and texted Giry to ask if she was anywhere around. She said she'd pop by and after I'd gotten situated on the floor, she appeared from around the corner with a couple books in her arms, black with some silver and gold decoration.

"Hi,"

"Hello," she grinned. She seemed a lot happier than usual. "And how are _you_ today?"

"AhhhI.. Good, I guess! ...How are you?"

"I-I don't know why, but I feel great today! My classes rock, my friends all seem to be happy,-"

"Heh, wonderful! ...What are you holding?" She came to my side and lowered the books.

"Uhhh... it's a spell book. I'm just reading it. Not to do anything 'whooo'!" she fluttered her hands, "although I may look into a few... I know you're not pagan, at least I'm pretty sure you're not, so I won't really get into it."

"Oh no, it's fine. I think it's interesting. I'm not pagan, but..." She noticed my eyes were practically molesting the cover and handed it to me.

"You can look if you want." I took it from her and returned to the floor to flip the pages. I'd tried spells before, like everyone has once in their life, for money or finding a boyfriend or other such bullshit that was hard to believe could happen from putting coins or scraps of paper under your pillow. I knew it was more than that though, and beyond my control it intrigued me because I was a sucker like that.

Suddenly there was someone looming over me. I looked up and it was Meg, who resembled a sleepwalking person, having a wonderful dream.

"Hey Mariam," Giry greeted.

"Hi!" She squeaked back, then bit her lip. I knew her Chemistry class wasn't until next period so I wasn't sure what this was all about. She dropped to her knees next to me and set down a cup of onion rings. We just stared at her waiting for an explanation. "_...I saw him in the snack-bar line!_" She whispered in our direction.

"...That's it?" I asked.

"No, he saw me _too! We were both getting straws, and then he noticed it was me and we talked!!!" _

"REALLY? WHAT'D HE SAY?" Giry shouted, practically into my ear.

"_**SHSHSHSHHH**_," Meg ordered, laying over me and the book just to make her point.

_"What'd he say?!" _

"He said," she put on a low voice "'hey I know _you!' _and 'what are you doing in a place like this?' Thchcehehehe."

"And what did you say?!" I asked for the both of us.

"I... I... I laughed and didn't think of anything funny to say back!"

"Pshhh-"

"She's completely spellbound, isn't she?" Giry asked me.

"Yes, I think it's inoperable, too." We shook our heads.

"Oh SHUT UP, you have _no _room to talk!"

"Well come on, you had to have said _something_,"

"I said I'd see him next period, and he said he would 'reserve' a table. Oh my gosh, he's so cute..." She trailed, stuffing an onion ring in her mouth. Giry crawled over like she wanted to steal from her and she lent out the cup.

"Wow, she's even sharing?" I questioned. Meg gave me the eye, but it was short lasted before she sunk into the wall.

"Ohhhhh, what do I _do_?"

"Just go to class and act like yourself. And be nice to him," I suggested, a little wearily.

"Nooo," she replied sarcastically.

"Hey, it isn't always the first instinct. Really."

"Lily's right. Just treat him like a friend and show interest so he doesn't drift."

"Well okay but there's gonna be times when we're just sitting there listening to the teacher or working on something, and I don't want it to be awkward-"

"It won't be!" Giry tried. "I mean... don't get distracted from the class, but if there's time to spare, just make some small talk to keep the lines open and then the more important conversation will just sort of come." I nodded.

"Okay..."

We could tell today she had to take extra time to register simple information.

"But what about... when class ends. Like... how would I end it? Would I... would I say that I wanted to sit next to him again, or..."

"No, don't think about that yet. Just think about the moment and by next time it should fall together the same, and if you get the feeling it won't, just _walk up_ and _sit next to him. _It's easy, it just takes a little initiation." I was liking this. Giry's advice beat mine with a wooden stick.

"If I may add... Guys are _very_ inhibited. They won't come to you unless you come to them a little."

"Very good point, Lily!" Giry added with a noble face.

"Okay, okay..." Meg replied with her eyes on the floor. "You guys have given me enough advice - I think if I hear anymore, my head will spill and I'll forget how to tie my own shoes." We laughed at her relentlessly and Giry grabbed her by the shoulders.

"He's gonna think you're adorable, I can just feel it."

"I agree, actually." ... "H-He probably already does," I corrected.

"Yeah really... 'What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this'!"

"Oh Goddd!" She covered her face and we continued to poke fun at her for a while before Giry's friends called her off. I had to comfort and even lead Meg to the door of her class when the time finally came, and I could see Jeffrey at the end of the hall, distracted by friends, but clearly on his way. At this point, I whispered _good luck_ into her ear and dashed off, away to Stage Crew.

When Humanities came around, my nerves acted up, seeing the new faces and not having that usual _spot_ to sit. The desks were three rows in a half circle and I picked the front far left, closest to the door, and spent the time before the bell went off watching Mr. Frackson, who was at his desk in the corner of the room joking with a student he seemed to know already.

Five minutes later, he pulled up a stool and introduced himself. He said he'd try to make the syllabus quick and painless, and throughout it, made a lot of jokes about the administration office "loving" him for his pushing of the curriculum limits. And actually, it was kind of addictive watching him. He had wavy dirty blond hair and thick black glasses, and this perfectly sharp nose. He moved about kind of spontaneously but every movement seemed appropriate with his words. I had been told he had an energy to his lectures and now I saw it.

"Alright, what I'm gonna have you do... is write a fun fact... but something important to you... something that would help define you... on this piece of paper. Could be deep like 'I search near and far for true love,'" the class laughed, "or maybe you have an unfounded talent for Chinese checkers - _anything_ you want. It's anonymous, and I'm not going to call anyone out," he gave someone in the back a mock-dagger stare. "I just want to get a general feel of what this class is all about."

As I was right at the end, he gave the piece of paper to me first. I stared at the blank page, intimidated by all the answers I could possibly write, aware also that the girl next to me would know I had written it. To be honest, I didn't want to say something personal enough to define me, even if it was anonymous.

_"I drink far too much tea," _I jotted in cursive.

The girl next to me took it with a hand of silver fingernails and did as she was supposed to, and so did the next person, and the next. Chatter started up from the wait, and Mr. Frackson was socializing, so fidgeted with a pen and stared at all his posters a while before he had the final product in his hands.

"Okay, very good..." He looked down the list and nodded to himself, even laughed a little. "Okay... now Part 2... I'manna read these off, pause, and anyone that the fact applies to, raise your hand. To be clear... _no_, you do not have to raise your hand to your own fact if you don't want to... Sometimes people underestimate the gravity of their own fun-fact." I thought this was funny.

He cleared his throat dramatically.

"I drink farrrr too much tea," he said, just perfectly. I raised my hand. Surprisingly, a couple girls at the other end raised theirs too.

"...I have a plastic... frog collection," he pronounced, squinting at the words. The girl next to me raised her hand, solely, and giggled, albeit a bit modestly. "My word, that's... wonderful. There might come a day when we need those." I smiled at her and she turned towards me a bit. I noted she had a beautiful pair of glasses with a light grey frame and little jewels in the corners. Hmph. He moved on.

"...I love horseback riding." Several more raised their hands.

"I'd like to become an English professor... mmm, very nice." Two raised their hands.

The list went on - "Science fiction novels are my guilty pleasure," "I'm fluent in Romanian", "I live for football"... yeah... The only ones I raised my hand for were:

"I'd like to publish at least one book in my lifetime",

"I love to bake",

"I grew up on Disney", and

"I'm going to art school".

The syllabus and doing this took up almost all of the period and it was sprinkled with a lot of jokes. I knew I loved Mr. Frackson already and he hadn't even given us an assignment. But speak of the devil, he sent around the new books and asked us to read the first two chapters by Wednesday.

By the time English got out, I was walking towards Meg's classroom before I realized her 6th period had changed, and either way, she was probably heading towards my English room, wondering where the hell I was.

I couldn't find her anywhere so I, stupidly, ended up stuck in lowerclassmen traffic. Eventually I heard her calling me from up the stairs, and I waited for her to come running down and grab my arm like it was a lifesaver. I lead her through the crowd until there was room to breathe and noticed then that she looked happy enough to start sprinting down the street. That and she was following me home.

"What happened?!"

"It went. SO WELL."

"Uhuh?"

"YEAH, I went in there and he saw me and we sat together all period and talked and laughed and he was all _happyyy_, and-"

"Did he show you his comics?"

"_NO_, there wasn't time!" She pouted.

"Well then you have the perfect excuse to sit next to him tomo- wait, tomorrow's Tuesday."

"OH NOOOO, I have to wait until Wednesday! Thanks for reminding me."

"He won't forget you, I'm sure..." I tried.

"I hope not... Man, we hit it off so much better than I thought we would... He was looking at my stickers, and sometimes we'd just turn to each other smiling all amusedly because Mr. Cunningham... well,_ you know_."

"Uhuh?"

"And there was a little bit of time where we could talk and one of his friends was like... making fun of him or something, and he was filling out the answers, and he goes 'I'm sure Mariam's acing it', and I was like 'what?!!'"

"Oh shut up, you know you're great at chemistry."

"Well, yes, I _did _admit I had an A in there, but he _assumed _I was smart! Agghh!"

I snickered as she stared up at the sky with her hands still clutching me tightly for support. "...Hey Mariam? Sometimes my arm likes to be circulated." She let go and danced around my mailbox as we reached the front of my house.

"Oh no, your ex's getting jealous," I pointed out. You see, the mailbox was once victim of a Meg Lapdance one late night during a rousing game of Dare Outside. The game was sister of Truth or Dare that we made up for sleepovers to get the most out of it. Why Truth when you can Dare? And why dare inside when you can make someone dance in the street in their underwear?

She paused and stared at the mailbox, then shook her finger at it.

"You knew what this was," she uttered sternly.

I shook my head at her and came to the door. She followed me to the kitchen when I dug out some things from my bag and checked my phone. I saw I had a new message so I turned away from her a moment to look.

_**"I'm waiting for you.."**_

"_I'm waiting for youuu_," her voice whispered right over my shoulder. I slapped the phone closed and swayed around her to the other end of the kitchen. She placed her hand over her heart. "I'd sure like a message like that from Jeffrey right about now."

"All in good time," I answered nervously, then coughed.

"...I take it I need to skedaddle?" I bit my lip.

"Well, it was sort of planned, and my parents will be home around five..."

"No no... no explanation necessary..."

"I-I-I'll be on aim later and we can talk about what happened to your heart's content, I promise!"

"Okay, if you say so! Don't let him keep you there all night and cover you in roses..."

"Psh, I don't think I could pass that one off as you being mischievous."

She smiled at me before opening the door for herself and disappearing. When I couldn't see her out the window any longer, I took all my stuff and ran upstairs to get ready.

- - -

The handles of the theater doors shook but didn't open. I worried that he had been waiting somewhere else all along, but just as I was turning around, I noticed him standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hehh..." I tried to break the ice. It still confused me how he did stuff like that.

"Hello." He smiled, in some blank but pleasant way.

"Hi..." He didn't seem to need anything else from be before his fingers encircled my hand and he lead me up the concrete path to the side of the building. "How are you?" When he reached the door, he stopped to look at me with an eerie pause.

"Good, now... ...Thank you for asking," he added. Slowly, he turned away from me to the door. I figured he was going to let me in, but he used his free hand to pull out a small ring of keys and turn the lock securely. They were dropped back into his pocket as he bent under the railing to step into the dirt below the platform. I figured he wanted me following him, so I did the same, although it wasn't as easy with a shorter pair of legs. While helping me not-trip, I noticed him staring at the top of my head. "...I like that. It looks very nice on you."

"...What? ...Oh - the bow, hehh... _thank_ you..." He looked like he was going to say something else, but didn't. "...Where are we going?..."

"Well..." He started into the forest before completing his answer... "The sun sets around five... I thought you might like to see the water again..."

...What happened to my Phantom? It was like he'd been sent to Phantom Boot Camp and now he just wanted to show his "appreciation" for me. I couldn't check his temperature via the forehead method either.

Guiltily, I looked down to the ground with my fingers playing with an earring. "I'm... supposed to be back at five. No one knows I'm gone..."

"Oh, alright..."

"I think by then my nose'll be running like a faucet, anyway..." He weakly smiled. "I appreciate the thought, though..."

"I'll take you back in a little while then."

"Take me wherever."

He seemed to listen, weaving me through the brush in a random path while I told him about my first day back, but the spot we ended up in seemed rather calculated, because a moss-covered rock large enough for me to sit on was waiting between two trees. He noticed it was fairly wet (what do you expect - it was January), thought about it a moment, and started taking off his jacket.

"Oh no! No really, I can stand," he approached the rock and almost looked like he couldn't hear me hovering around right behind him. I stared uncomfortably at it, draped over it and surely dirtied. "But.. but.. but... you're going to be _freezing_." Still trance-like, he took my hands and backed me up until I had nothing to do but sit or he'd lean right into me.

"I don't do things because I have to, Christine." He backed away with his hands gently extended, like he were checking the straightness of a picture frame. He looked to have seen perfection. "In fact, I've learned to ignore pressure all together. It's something I'm working to expel in you as well. You've heard this before, though..."

"You must have _some_ pressures."

"There are some things that drive me beyond my control, like you. That's something I'm happy to be influenced by, though..."

"I-I.... I never know what to say when you tell me things like this."

"Well, you've never heard them before.... Surprisingly..."

"Hehh... I don't think that's a surprise at all."

And then he just smiled at me, and it made me self-conscious enough to look down and make sure my coat layers weren't poking out in weird places. "I actually wanted to see you to tell you something..." I looked up at him and I could tell he was thinking out his words. "There was something I planned that never happened... I was hoping I could... take you somewhere... rather soon... You just have to tell me when I can."

"Well I..." I couldn't really tell him I worked until Friday, but I'm sure he knew. "I'll see when I can...It may not be until the weekend..."

"Whenever you can give me your mind completely..." He said. It kind of creeped me out not knowing what this was all about. In a zoned state, I stood up from the rock and he came before me. "You'll enjoy it, I promise..."

"Okay... I trust you then."

"Are you sure?" I looked up to tilt my head at such a question and noticed he seemed to be getting very cold again.

"Never. I've learned to live that way lately, I guess." His smirk was reassuring that I hadn't said something wrong.

"I have too." I felt my hand being lifted. It came between us and met his lips, which hit the chalky skin like ice. It frankly sent bolts all through me... This was the second time he had done something like this... but I steered clear of addressing it.

"You don't have to live like _this_ though."

"What's that?"

"You know, freezing your ass off and such..." Hm, that didn't sound very Christine-ly at all... in fact, it was sappy for _anyone_.

He hid his amusement from me by turning to the side.

"Take me back."

"As you wish..."

He took his dampened coat by the collar and wrung it over his arm, then extended the other for me. Now that I had him all alone, this would've been the ideal time to kick him in the shin and "hospitalize" him back at the theater. I doubt he had a bowl of cookies laying around though. The fantasy would have to wait for another time.

He checked his pocket watch when the building became visible and told me it was 4:40. That was probably as much time I could spend with him to stay in the safe zone...

I was helped up the platform again and stood next to the door. He took out his keys and stared at me. "...Do you need to come in here to warm up?"

"No, I really shouldn't..."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no, it's okay. I should go back alone."

His eyes dropped as his arm blindly cracked open the door.

"...It'll be so much better than this."

"What?"

"...I'm sorry. I seem to be thinking aloud."

"... I look forward to it, Erik," I tried. He was a bit stretched across the entrance, but I hugged him on one side and hurried down the path. I looked back once and the door was closed.

What we had just had made no sense to me, but then, neither did my feelings for him. I would go where he took me.


	32. Chapter 32 Against Character

**Author's Note  
**If you're surprised what is established in this chapter... trust me!

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 32 - Against Character

On the way to school, a car pulled out of the theater's road - a black truck with the windows half rolled down. The driver saw me waiting to cross and notioned for me to, but he wouldn't stop staring. When I reached the other side and heard no engine, I looked behind me and into the window. When his face became visible, I knew I recognized it, but I didn't know where from. I didn't want to keep looking and make it obvious I noticed his attention, so I continued walking.

Meg was nowhere where I'd usually spot her in the morning, so I came upstairs and mistakenly started crossing the side of the hall where people gathered of the quote unquote "popular" persuasion. I was getting weird looks almost immediately, like I was carrying the plague or something. I heard my name called and knew it was coming from a group of guys sitting at a bench at the start of the E Porch, which I happened to know of, but I don't feel like mentioning their names. I'm not sure why I didn't just keep walking, but I actually gave him my time of day.

"Will you..." he hesitated, "Will you go to Winter Formal with me?" He asked, but he was quite terrible at acting serious, even for the delivery. I fake-smiled at him and remarked,

"That's a good one," and turned my back, cringing at their laughter, even as it died in volume when I hit the big crowd. I did not like that when I was put on the spot, I wasn't clever. I should have walked up and sat on the guy's lap, telling him I thought he'd never ask and that I'd been in love with him all year. (I'm joking.) Anything was better than what I had actually said, though.

When I reached the other end of the hall, I actually saw Giry talking in the corner with a couple others. I thought I'd just pass her right by and not make a thing of it, but "Christine m'dear!" reached me from behind before I'd entirely disappeared. Her hand came out and touched me on the arm and I, kind of reluctantly, entered this circle.

"This is my friend Lily." The two smiled and looked me up and down, which made me rather self-conscious, but I had some looking to do of my own. I noticed most that the guy wore a dark blue trench that almost met the floor, and the girl's eye-liner was curled up Egyptian style. I'd tried the look on myself once before unsuccessfully, but it worked on her.

"I'm Sean," the guy introduced and even stuck his hand out. I smiled, hoping it would redeem the fact that I was not about to shake it.

"Oh! Um... Lily has a bubble." I darted my eyes around. There may have been a pity laugh, but nothing more.

"Okay! My name's Jessica and I will stay out of your bubble!" The girl right stated matter-of-factly, which brought about some ice-breaking amusement, luckily.

I looked at Giry like "why am I here", and she put something together on the spot.

"Jessy! You went to the play - Lily was in it! She was um... Vivian!... that main girl's sister?"

"Oh! That was you?" I nodded. "Wow, I wouldn't have thought... You're so quiet in person."

"I-It happens..." She found this funny. I think I was ruining their conversation skills so I stepped a little to the left. "I'm actually looking for Meg,-"

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No it's no big deal,"

"Nice to meet you, Lily,-" Sean tried.

"You too," I smiled at both of them and walked away as fast as I came. When I turned the corner, I saw Meg at the other end of the science hall and hurried across. She noticed me and did nothing but smile. "Where've you been?"

"Where've _I_ been? What're you, my keeper now?"

"Ha, ha, ha.-"

Suddenly my phone beeped.

"Uh oh, looks like _your_ keeper has something to say."

"It could be a number of people-" I argued, whipping the phone out indignantly, except for it _was _Erik.

_**Behind you.**_

_What._ I turned around and the hall was just as I'd found it. I turned back to Meg, who sort of turned to the side to eye the hall as well.

"I-I should go."

"_To a psychiatrist, maybe-_"

"One of these days, probably." I grinned at her and inched away. I was inspecting everyone within the second. At the end of the hall, I leaned down the stairwell railing and descended, feeling it was the right place to look, and a cold air by the downstairs doors told me to venture out to the side of the building, where the private road between the school and a track was vacant on both sides.

This was not the first time he had made such a comment and I had actually taken it seriously. I was about to start laughing at myself when the bell rang inside and I realized I had better get my ass in there before I was late to a class that I was already failing.

- - -

"Lily. I want to go to Winter Formal." Meg dropped the bomb on Wednesday. She was once again a bundle of nerves following me home from school, having spent another period with you-know-who.

"Why. We never go." Meg paused. "Wait. Nevermind. I know why."

"Pleeeease! He brought it up today and I said I was thinking about it and he said _hopefully he'd see me there_!"

"Then you should go."

"But I need someone to go with me-"

"Paulina's going, isn't she?"

"Yeah but she has too many friends - it'd be just weird and I'd probably end up alone."

"Mariam..." I stopped walking and placed my hands on her shoulders. "I hate dances. You hate dances _too_. We are not dance people. Why don't you just spend time with him in class instead of subject yourself to things you know you wouldn't normally do?"

She sighed, like she was desperately out of words to convey her affections for him.

"I just want to see him dressed up. And maybe he'd dance with me..."

She was bringing on guilt in me by the time we reached the house. I opened my mouth to speak when I received yet another text. "Just a second," I assured her. She blinked a whole lot and started walking in circles with her arms crossed.

_**I saw something that reminded me of you. I'll give it to you soon.**_

Heh.

_I'll call you later._

I looked back up to Meg, who'd now cleared the frost over my driveway in the path she'd paced. I sighed heavily.

"I'll think about it. ...But you know what would be an even better idea: asking _him_ to go with you! I-I know that lesbian joke with my mom was funny but if we start going on dates, she might really suspect."

Once again, the phone came between us.

_**Please do**_**. **_**I like hearing your voice.**_

"I wouldn't terribly mind if my courting methods weren't bunched in with _his_."

"Thanks, I'll tell him you approve." She actually snickered. "I have to get ready for work."

"Alright, g'bye... think about it!" She started up the street but kept turning around. "Think long and hard!" "Think of wearing a pretty dress! Ahh? Ahh?"

I waved at her modestly as not to get her hopes up too high and came into the house.

- - -

When I got back from work that night, I realized the only option for me and my conscience was to come with Meg to the dance, even though, besides hating dances, I would've preferred to find out if I was being taken to a certain somewhere by a certain individual.

He had been texting me every day this week asking me what I was doing, saying goodnight to me even, but he didn't mention where he was taking me at all. I almost think he was waiting, at the edge of his seat, for me to say I was finally free for whatever this was.

Nerve-wracking as it would always be, I sat down, in the closet, and called him in the dark. His answer took a while and when it came, he was breathing into the phone, like he was walking at the same time. He wanted to know how I was, so I told him I was due for a lot of homework before I could sleep and Meg was dragging me to this dance. He found me going to a dance pretty funny, which did not help me develop any sort of enthusiasm for it.

"I'm sure he'd love to go with her," he said. It was surprising hearing such a statement from him. I told you earlier... he had changed or something over Winter Break.

"I told her so... If you want someone to be your date, all you need to do is ask."

He couldn't think of what to say.

Hearing the silence at the other end put a rather strange idea in my head, however. If I had really thought it up, I wasn't sure if I knew myself anymore.

"I'm about to suggest something really stupid," I warned him.

I expected a witty remark or two, but he did nothing but wait for the question.

"..._Willyougowithme,"_ I muttered.

"...I'm sorry?"

"It might be easier... with... you..." Ohhh.. This was so awkward I knew I wasn't going to look back on it and laugh for quite a while.

"...I'm sure I'd only make it difficult."

"...Why... would you think that?" Silence. "She's open to getting to know you."

"From a distance, very much so."

"She'd like me to settle the awkwardness... I think."

"I think you've thought wrong."

"I _think_ I'm the one that's known her for four years."

"I've gotten to know her..." His voice sort of died as he said it. An awkward pause came about.

"...I think you've misunderstood her, and she misunderstands you. I thought being able to talk to her face to face might..." I didn't even know what the point of this was anymore. "You don't have to." Once I said the four words, I realized they were the ones he hated hearing most. "I know it's not about having to. I-I just meant... I won't be upset if you don't," I lied. "I was asking out of complete impulse anyway, because I wanted to compensate for being so busy when I know you have plans."

"...When is it?" His question gave me a little hope.

"It starts at six and ends at nine. ...You're welcome to get tipsy beforehand," I joked. "I'm tempted myself."

"If you really want me to... I'll do whatever you ask. You don't need to get tipsy. I'd prefer you didn't."

Why a comment like that made me feel pink in the face, I'm not sure.

"Meg doesn't prefer either. Maybe you can bond over it."

I expected maybe some recognition that I'd said something humorous, but he lost his words again. I could tell he was still on the move.

"I-I think I should go start my work before it's too late."

"...Alright."

"...You're coming...?" You had to make entirely sure with him, I thought.

"I'm coming. Where would you like me to be?"

"I..." I sighed, having never thought out the details. "Don't come here." A weak laugh on the other side brought back a smile to my face, small as it was. "How about the front of the school, on the far left? You know, with the trees."

"I'll meet you at the doors. How does that sound?"

...I'm not sure why, but the proposition discomforted me. If it was about wanting to hide him from anybody, it was a bit futile given that he was coming to the actual dance. I almost wondered why he was so calm about it anyway.

"...If you'd like to do it that way."

"...Alright."

Awkward pause again.

"You may want to warn her sooner rather than later."

"I'll tell her when I see her," I made out like it was nothing. "...Goodnight."

"Good night."

I was slow to move the phone away from my ear, but the numbers never stopped counting until my own two hands snapped it shut.

- - -

It dawned on me while taking a shower that the guy eying me in the car that morning was the same one I'd seen at Fool's Dance, in the lobby. I'd given him the attendance slip, and he gave me a funny eye in return.

One plus one was two. ...He worked there and he recognized me.

- - -

"You asked The Phantom... to come to Winter Formal."

"Yes. I did."

"..._Really_?"

"What do you mean _'really'_? Wha-h... He can't come?" Meg looked anywhere but me as she took a drink out from her bag. After a group passed us in the hallway, her eyes trailed to the pixie of sorts I was drawing in my Humanities notebook.

"I just wonder what would possess you to do something like that. You know everyone's gonna be staring at him... right?"

I sighed heavily. "You know, Mariam... somehow... I think he's used to it. Somehow."

"But he's _your_ date. Are _you_ used to it?"

"I don't really care. My reputation is crap and I happen to like Erik. They can stare all they want. I'm going to be your moral support and hopefully fit in a good conversation or two."

Suddenly Meg looked like something huge had dawned on her. "...Oh _God..._I have to talk to him too, don't I?" The tone of her words instantly bothered me.

"Well yeah... that was the plan. I kind of hoped you'd... you know. Break the ice a little." She scratched her arm and stared at me. "He's willing to talk to you."

"Okay," she replied a little coolly. I waited for more but it never came.

"...I'd really like it if you learned to like him a little more than you do already, which is... not at all."

"Well... Lily..." She laughed in a unamused sort of way. "You're sort of forgetting that _he's_ the one that's been really um... hostile towards _me_. For no reason."

"I didn't forget, but I don't know what was running through his head entirely. All I know is he has never made negative comments about you, in fact, for the most part, he seems to think about how he can stay out of _your_ way. Out of courtesy, almost."

"Oh, I'm sure he's well aware he makes me uncomfortable. He knows what he's doing."

"Well..." I could've disagreed a little about what she meant by that, but was a little too tired to put in the effort. "There you go. At least he's thought it out."

She looked at me in a particularly unsatisfied way.

"...I don't understand why he wants to come in the first place. If _you _hate dances, he'd probably-... probably-"

"I don't think he wants to," I interrupted. "I just asked and he said he would. He's been... doing things that I ask him to do lately. I-I'm not sure why."

"It's a good thing there aren't any chandeliers, isn't it?"

"Oh _God_..." I rolled my eyes. We could both tell we were now on our way to a useless conversation.

"Really though. Should I be prepared for anything? Does he... suddenly turn into a bat and fly away?"

"Tch. ...Sometimes." She cracked a smile, and I did too, but the bitterness lasted. "He's going to be polite, like he usually is, believe it or not."

"Right, okay. But if Jeffrey asks: I don't know him."

* * *

**If you have time to review, that would be just fantastical. Thank you for reading! But I'm mainly posting it here because I care what you think - it gives me inspiration to continue, even when things get harder to write. :)  
**


	33. Chapter 33 So Just Leave

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 33 - So Just Leave

I was trying my darnedest not to be offended after that conversation at lunch. So Meg had trivialized him and then asked that no one know she has talked to him at all... In any normal situation where I had a boyfriend of sorts and really wanted to integrate him into my real life, this type of feedback would, and probably _should_, piss off anybody, but I was trying... so hard... to remember that I did not have a situation like that.

Misunderstood or not, Erik was great at keeping himself misunderstood, and funny enough, I was willing to admit that was mostly his own fault. I knew, deep down, that his creep meter was high, and Meg was not an idiot. She had been born with a functioning brain that had done her well for seventeen years, and I wouldn't have it any differently.

She too (at least I'm hoping) knew that I had been born with a functioning brain as well. This is probably why it perplexed her all the more that I put up with and even encouraged his... "antics".

If there was a way to explain to her that he was worth knowing, without throwing the secrecy he expected of me out the window, I would take full advantage of it, but there wasn't.

- - -

The night of, I couldn't focus on a single thing. Every minute, even in the fun classes, felt like an hour today, and after 6th period I had to swing back around to _Mr. Darelle's class _and stay until 4:30. Dances and Phantoms do not mix with advanced algebra. Erik may as well have been sitting in a desk nearby, watching, with his eyes burning a hole into my textbook.

Worse, I think he noticed this was the last thing I gave even the slightest amount of shit about. I appreciate that he was willing to do this for me, and it was _my fault_ for having a 52%, but tonight just wasn't the night.

I didn't even know what I was wearing to this thing.

He let me go at 4:15 and said we could finish up on Monday, and I ran from school to home. Yes, the girl who doesn't run - who considers it worth it to fail The Mile in P.E. to avoid getting tired and being humiliated.

Of course, there was a time I didn't know it was worth it and I tried keeping up with the girls who were actually in shape. This ended with Freshman Lily hurrying into the locker room and tossing her cookies, and then crying from embarrassment.

Moving on.

To be honest, it was awkward, even alone in the bathroom, trying to look nice for this dance when, since yesterday, Meg had been noticeably distant.

I think she also was surprised, maybe disgusted, that Giry was excited about the whole ordeal and had been making plans to see _"The Phantom!"_ as soon as she could. I asked if she'd keep her excitement on the down-low, not to make Erik feel observed or anything, and not to tell anyone there was someone at the dance that would inspire observation, and she agreed, but it was hard to know what would happen.

I decided on a lavender dress that had been collecting dust in the back of my closet, and I curled my hair, using some of my new diamond pins to hold back the short ends on the sides of my face. As I was doing my make-up, I realized it had been a while since I'd stared this much at myself. Every time a piece of fabric went awry in my dress, I'd fix it. I redid my eye-shadow probably four times before it looked right. And I actually wore eye-liner. Don't ask me why. My hand just rose from the make-up drawer and started putting things on my face, and I trusted it.

Good going, Lily. Bring that guy that scares the crap out of to you to the Winter Formal, where everyone can see him.

This must've just been last-minute angst or something.

- - -

Meg opened the door on me, then strolled back into the house trying to put on her other earing. I let myself in and took a good look at her. She had on my favorite dress of hers - a deep red knee-length with spaghetti straps and sort of pleated high-rise bust. She completed it with some little red flats with ribbon bows on the toes.

"You look really nice."

"Thanks," she replied, to the mirror. She petted her hair with her fingers a little bit before turning to me. "You look nice too."

I smiled a little, but she was up the stairs before I could say anything. I followed her, but for some reason wondering if I should. She was in her room tidying up the place after, I assume, quite an endeavor to pick the right outfit, when I appeared in the door frame. When she felt done with that she came to the dresser and popped a Mento in her mouth, then paused.

"Do you want one too?"

"Okay." I walked up and she dropped one in my hand, then stuffed the container in a little bejeweled purse that matched her dress. "Yikes, that's minty."

Her laugh was subdued. Without so much as a word, she looked around the room, thought everything in order, flicked off the light and came back down the hall. Again, I followed her.

"So Giry's meeting us about ten minutes in?"

"Yeah, I know,"

"In the hall outside,"

"Yeah."

"If you don't want to be seen with him that often, she said she'd gladly take you along with her."

I left out the detail about her casually and "by chance" leading her to Jeffrey once she knew where he was.

"I know. I'm probably going to spend some time with her. If you don't mind."

"Of course not."

To make things all the more uncomfortable, her mother came from upstairs with a camera in hand, even though she had seen us in these dresses more than once before. Meg and I draped our arms around each other and smiled for her, and I said thank you a few times for the compliments.

Her face stuck with me when we came out the door. A total sense of peace, pleased to see us going out to something social, proud of her daughter and fully aware what she was doing. I wouldn't be surprised if she knew about Jeffrey, too.

We didn't really say anything to each other, coming up the street. I think she had butterflies. I tried to convince myself they were all Jeffrey-related and not Best-Friend-With-Weird-Man-For-Date-related. The date-related ones should've been mine. I deserved to have all of them for making this decision.

The front of school came to view, dimmed from a setting sun, and no one was there. Well! There were people, talking, waiting, and what have you... Not the one that was making my stomach do turns.

We passed it all, and my body was following Meg, but my mind was still at the steps, looking out for him and wondering what he would say first - what would _I _say first? How would we _do_ the dance? Neither of us probably wanted to actually dance. There was food but I didn't want it, and I'd _never_ seen him eat _anything. _What would Giry say to him and would he care?

"Lily."

"What?" I realized we'd stopped in the corner of the hall outside the dance's room.

"_When's he coming?_" The way she asked sounded like he was a pending inconvenience. (Or maybe I was imagining things.) My reaction first was to look down the hall, then to the guy waiting to stamp our hands for entrance.

"Uhhh. He said he'd be at the front at 6:00."

"It's almost 6:00, maybe you should go see if he's_ there_."

"Okay..."

Our eyes stayed on each other a moment.

"I can go in alone," she stated, as if I would've never considered that an option. "I'll just get something to drink."

I wet my lip and turned towards the hall. Not long after, I heard behind me her distinct laughter. She had met up with Giry early. The both of them sort of flickered their eyes towards me, in the midst of smiles, before disappearing in the crowd.

This didn't feel alienating at _all_. Oh no.

I came out from the edge of the wall and saw out the window a black shape at the railing. It made my shoulders rise.

His back was turned, so he couldn't have seen me coming down the stairs at snail's pace, my hands rising to the glass doors with unnecessary caution.

Well, at least he didn't have an umbrella.

The doors opened silently, although the change in temperature was enough of a transition for me. His hair swept over his shoulders a little, but he was motionless still. It felt weird to be stepping towards him, like I had the power. I approached him just a little more when an arm he kept in front of him fell to his side and the hand opened.

My hand hesitated, but eventually touched him. When he felt it, his fingers closed. It gave me shivers.

I came to his side and looked up to him, but he made no eye contact before descending the stairs, each step some time apart to make sure I followed. I did a ways, then it occurred to me it didn't make sense what we were doing.

"The dance is that way," I lifted my free hand slightly to notion behind us.

"It is," he agreed.

He took another step, but I didn't. After a thoughtful pause, he turned so I was in full front of him. I couldn't make out anything in his expression, besides some desire to continue whatever plan he had made without my consent. "What are you doing then?"

"I said I would come. I'm here to take you away now."

"I asked you to come and stay."

"You asked me to _come_," he tried to correct. Why was it always semantics with this guy?

"Stay was implied and obvious."

He took a look right into my eyes, in a way that sort of hit my core, and smiled.

"But you would like to leave... wouldn't you."

"Whether I would like to or not is of no difference to Meg, who's in there waiting... _for both of us._"

"She's in Giry's hands, isn't she."

"Yes, but-"

"Then she'll be fine." His voice dropped as he said it. My fingers in his hand loosened, but he kept his own very tightly around mine.

"I-I can't do that."

"I'd like to take you somewhere."

"I can't just disappear."

His eyes fixed on my face a moment, my point accounted for, and I could only hope on the outside I looked sterner than I felt. "I've made sure she knows what happened to you." The statement, calm and confident, prompted me to retract.

"I just saw her. She doesn't know."

He exhaled quickly and gazed into me with rising intensity. "Trust me," he said. Every time I heard the two words, our relationship seemed to pass before my eyes. "I promise you won't regret it. I promise..." I was so frozen by his persuasion I just stared. "I promise..." he repeated, his finger caressing the top of my hand, over and over. I could feel his grip tightening all the while. It felt like he was trying to take away my choice.

I didn't expect him to let go of me, but he started backwards down the rest of the stairs, his hand gently gliding the railing and slipping off the edge. He seemed to be approaching a solitary car a ways from the front. He did not come closer to it until I came closer to him. He opened the passenger door, watching me all the while, and slipped around the front of the car. He got in, closed his door, and looked out to me as I stood at the sidewalk, shivering, shaking my head no.

"I'm going to leave," he said. It was making me angry. "You can come with me." I glanced back to the front, then to the inside of the car, when his key reached the ignition and the lights on the dashboard came to a glow. I stepped towards the passenger's door and leaned inside.

"Why are you putting me in this position?"

"...Because. You'll need no other excuse to be with me all night."

"But..."

"After all... you went to the dance."

He put the car into drive and slowly eased away the pressure on the break. The car began rolling along the curb. I kept to its side, and instead of ahead, he kept looking straight at me.

I wanted to be with him. I wanted to come back to Meg. I wanted to see where he'd take me. I wanted to be a good friend and help her talk to Jeffrey. I wanted the opportunity to understand Erik more than I had before. I wanted not to have to ditch my life to do it.

I put my hands on the car door, even as it rolled, so he would come to a stop and allow me to think without feeling like my brain was racing away from me.

"...I will not leave her without saying."

He paused a moment, then put the car in park.

"If it's worth it to you to spend time with me at all, then just wait here and let me talk to her." His answer did not come right away. The way things were going, I don't think he expected me to resist his offer.

"...All right," he said, his eyes replying in a very different way. They wouldn't let go of me. The way he looked at me made me feel incapable of closing the door on him right away. When I did, the windows concealed him completely, but his hold on me was only a little weaker.

I could not find Meg right away. She happened to see me wandering around and touched me on the shoulders from behind, which just scared the fucking shit out of me. I was pulled to the side quickly after that. "So what's going on?" She asked, sort of like my mother would.

"He's outside." ...I knew the next question was "isn't he coming in?" "He's not coming in."

She crossed her arms.

"So you don't want to be here. That's it, isn't it?"

"Meg- I." Her eyes widened immediately at my stupid...completely ridiculous mistake, and then she walked away. Unwelcome as I felt, I stuck behind her, though she made doing so difficult by weaving the crowd in an unnecessarily complicated way. We ended up with Giry and some of her friends. "I never said I wanted to go; I had no idea he was going to-"

"Just leave. You want to leave. So just leave," she stated point-blank. The people now accompanying us were speechless. I tried to stand directly in front of her but she stepped closer to Giry.

"But I don't know if that's what I want to do. I came here for you-"

"You came here for me and you're leaving for him. Really, it's fine. I don't need you," she said to the air.

I was stared at by the whole group and Mariam didn't look like she would listen to another word, so I turned around and disappeared back into the crowd, the faces of my classmates as I passed them growing blurry. It was only until I had reached the dark hall that I could, carefully, clear my tears, wondering all the while, even with my frustration, if I deserved to cry about this. I had to stand at the doors, focusing on the sky, to recollect myself. Why was it happening this way? Easy answer. I needed her to hate me, as she did tonight, to understand fully what I was doing. Being a bad friend. Not telling off this... _stranger_... To say that his plans came before hers was a trifling detail, the kind a selfish person makes even though she gave her word.

If she had asked, and I'd seen in her eyes how badly she wanted me to stay, I would have. It was not a choice we had made together for me to leave. All I had left was Erik.

* * *

**Thank you glove cmprtmnt~~ :3**

**- Lady Bow**


	34. Chapter 34 Dream

**AUTHOR'S NOTE  
**Here's the whole thing. :) I'm sorry it took me so long. The chapter's pretty lengthy though, so it's almost like two chapters. I should be getting to the next chapter this weekend! Thank you for sticking with me.

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 34 - Dream, Pt. 1

I gradually stepped to the other side of the doors and saw his car still sitting under the draping tree branches. When I had time to think, I noted that it was gold-ish in color, a typically sized four-door... I didn't know the make. You're probably wondering why I'm mentioning this... It seemed like a smart idea to remember something like a car, in case I ever saw it again. If I ever needed to identify him. Whatever the case may be. On my way out, I took a scrap of paper and pen from my purse and walked to the car very slowly, all the while scribbling down the license plate number. I think I'd done it fast enough not to be noticed.

I opened the passenger door and stepped in, and I noticed he seemed to sort of just be staring ahead until it registered he was no longer alone. I didn't feel like saying anything, although he smiled a little in my direction.

He was thorough enough leaving the school. I had the opportunity, with arms and legs very close to my body, and fingers entangled in the string of my purse, to watch the entrance drift away...

"Put your seatbelt on." He laid his hand on the gearstick, waiting patiently. If there was one right decision I could make that night, I guess this was it.

I didn't really pay attention to anything after he started down the road. I had sort of sunk in my seat, holding my phone in hand, trying to think how I would ever approach Meg again and tell her I was sorry. I didn't truly know if it was his fault or mine right then. So he had been the one who asked me to ditch... But I invited him, knowing he wouldn't bring about the most conventional dance experience.

She had every right to be angry with me.

Why was I giving myself the option of coming with him anyway? Why didn't I force him to come inside?

Suddenly he turned on the radio and a pleasant string quartet filled the car. It didn't really fit with how I felt at that moment, _at all_... It seemed kind of uncharacteristic for him even to be listening to it.

"It's been quite a while since I was asked on a date," he said. If he was trying to be funny, it kind of worked, but I was too guilty to play off of it. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. "...Giry will keep her company." It was kind of weird hearing him tell _me_ things about Giry, as if he knew her.

"I don't think I'll be able to look Meg in the face for days, to be honest." He didn't say anything. "Although I really wasn't looking at her much lately anyway.

.

.

"I think you were right."

"About what?"

"About her not really wanting to see you."

.

.

"I always try to convince myself that when she acts like I shouldn't know you... she's just joking. I don't think so anymore."

"Meg's a smart girl... She's right to distrust me."

"I know." My voice became quiet at that. "She doesn't know you. ...But then neither do I..." I trailed.

He focused on a road a moment, the reflection of the lights moving across his mask.

"You know I care about you." ...Oh dear. After all this time, hearing stuff like this shouldn't have made me jump inside, but it did.

"That's why I asked you to come... But..."

"It'd be more of a mistake to stay than go, I thought," he finished for me, very calmly, looking up into his mirror.

I kind of begged to differ, but I didn't really feel like arguing with him about it then and there.

The signs said we were heading into Portland when he turned into the exit lane. Before long, the car was surrounded in closely packed buildings, parked cars lining the sides of the roads. He seemed very sure where he was going. At a particularly long stoplight, I took my focus off the glare of red on the rain-specked windshield and noticed he was smiling at me. To make me feel better, I'd assume... He was wearing me down. I was guilty but I was here, and if I was going to be here when I shouldn't, I figured I should make it as worth it as possible.

Eventually he pulled over, looked at me, and said "stay here" before getting out of the car, although I heard him strolling the back. The door opened on my side and he was learning forward with an umbrella. (That one I'd thought wasn't around earlier, yes.)

He held it over me the whole walk, to wherever we were going, paying little attention to the water soaking his other shoulder. Two people of such different height sharing the same umbrella was kind of a task, but I thought it was cute nonetheless.

People stared at him, and it awed me even though I expected it, I think because this was the first time I had seen him in the presence of others, besides that late _late _bus ride and even then, only the driver saw us. He had been alone at that theater or stalking my neighborhood for three - going on four months - then, and now we were walking the streets together, and my hands were firm around his arm. ...I'm sure we looked like we were dating from the outside, and dressed up for no particular reason. Something about it thrilled me.

"...Do you come here often?"

"Yes."

"Do you have friends here?"

He paused before he answered. "I do."

As we crossed the buildings, one after another, a bit like a haze of lights, I caught sight of a woman, covered in moth-eaten layers, leaned against a stoop, sleeping. Erik passed her without even looking down. I watched her until we walked straight through a group of people singing, not the most tasteful of music. A cloud of smoke hit us both on the way out.

"...You don't come to Portland often, do you?"

"You can tell?" Tell? He probably knew.

"Things surprise you. When you've lived here, nothing does anymore. Anywhere..."

"It doesn't necessarily surprise me... It makes me sad seeing homeless people, though..."

He looked down on me. "I know quite _a few_ homeless... Some of them are fine that way," he said, ending with a smile, then looking off. "A large percentage of schizophrenics have no home... For many it's easier than trying to integrate themselves into society."

"...That's not you, is it?" I jokingly asked.

He looked at me once more and when he paused, I regretted it. "No."

At this point, I lowered my gaze to the ground for a while before his pace slowed. "Christine?" I jerked in his direction. "You should call Giry and tell her where you are." I stared at him a moment. "To be safe..." he added. I questioned him with my eyes a moment before my hand dug blindly for my phone.

I would've turned off to the side, but he was still holding the umbrella over me, and for good reason, so I just clicked her name and waited, feeling awkward standing directly in front of him without saying anything.

"Lily?" Her voice answered, after many rings, backdropped by the obnoxious bass of the music.

"Hi Giry," I replied, Erik staring at me all the while.

"Hey. What's up?"

"...You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No... why would I be?"

"Oh, you know, there was that thing where I ditched the dance and the Phantom showed up and Meg is upset-" He smiled, presumably because of the way he was mentioned.

"I don't think sh.... ier... ou if.... nsi... 'ay."

"What?"

"Hold on a sec. It's too fucking loud in here, hahahah..."

I laughed just to humor her and waited. It allowed me time to look around us, and to the building in front of us. Beyond the windows was a dim lobby. To what, I wasn't sure. After some shuffling, the music faded out of hearing range.

"Okay," Giry continued. "... I said I don't think she would've been much less upset if he'd actually came inside. I didn't want to tell you if you were going to have a good time tonight, but... Maybe I shouldn't."

Erik continued to stare at me. "...What?"

"...She just told me she wasn't happy about it. Let's leave it at that. She's having a good time right now though. I got her and Jeffrey talking!"

"Heh, that's great... I wish I could've helped... Hopefully he likes her."

"I think he does... Like... you'd just have to see them. They're being really cute together."

"Heh..."

Erik looked off down the street and his breath escaped into the cold air. "Well... I just wanted to tell you I'm... with him right now... and..." I thought of what to say, and Giry was silent. "I'm not exactly sure where we are, it's in Portland..."

"If you give it to me, I'll tell her," he interrupted, his spare hand raised between us. Hesitantly, I lowered the phone from my ear and gave it to him.

"Madame?" Heh. Heheh. "...Are you enjoying yourself?... ...Wonderful... ...Yes. I'm taking her to dinner." ...Hm? "It's called Giussepe's, on the seventh floor of the Lurriott Inn... It's on Everett Street... 10th avenue, I believe... I don't expect to stay longer than an hour or two." He smirked at me, almost like he thought it was cute he was being so specific. "...I hope so." Hope what. "...I will. ...Goodbye." He slapped the phone closed and handed it back to me.

"Hope what?" His eyes widened slightly.

"I told her I hope you enjoy tonight."

I wanted to immediately say "I will," but it didn't seem entirely sincere yet.

"Come," he continued, placing a hand on my back and leading me up the steps. He closed his umbrella at the top and shook it thoroughly. By then I'd held the door open for him, but he came to my side and gripped it at a higher place, gesturing with his other hand for me to enter.

"Phantoms first."

"Heh ... I couldn't."

"Yes you could," I argued.

We both remained for a long moment, and this made me look down the sidewalk to make sure no one was going to walk by wondering what we were doing. To my dismay, a few people were well on their way, and the pressure to move got to me.

"Just to get the ball rolling," I reasoned. He seemed very pleased while stepping in from the cold himself, and then he gave me his hand. It was then, when the feel of his gloves hit my fingertips that I realized this sort of moment; this night, was not common for our relationship, and may not have been afterwards either. I tried to become as alert as possible, taking in even the simple things like the pattern of the carpet, the silence across the length of the room, and the lighting against Erik's shape.

He lead me into the elevator and the doors closed behind us. Once he had set the floor, we started moving, and he leaned in to my ear. "...Have you ever been stuck in an elevator?"

"No... am I about to be?"

"That would be a terrible date, wouldn't it?"

I nervously chuckled. "Depends on how long and who with. It'd make for a good story if it happened with you."

"Heh, well I have a better story planned. Maybe another time," he replied, his eyes directed at but not entirely focused on me. The light of the seventh floor flushed over the elevator soon after, and a host at the front desk was literally right there when we stepped out. He eyed us up and down. Erik didn't feel like wasting time. "Somewhere less crowded... would be nice..."

The host smiled, I knew it was a courtesy smile you had to make no matter how strange your customers looked, but as he lead us along, a couple people on the way I caught staring at Erik. I don't know why, but I liked that we were being stared at. I liked being part of an oddity. Usually I was sitting at one of those tables, with my parents, a book underneath the table cloth.

I was holding my book's hand at the moment, and soon he was helping me into my seat. I made sure to keep sucking in the moment... The restaurant had a very stunning glow to it; a light carpet, lights over each table surface, people's jewelery; my bracelet and ring; the silverware... all glimmered. Even the salt and pepper shakers looked like treasure. I set my purse out in front of me and absentmindedly glanced at the time on top my cellphone cover. 6:48 already. My focus switched to Erik, who was sitting up straight and watching me, the menus, untouched, in front of him.

I raised the hand holding the phone just slightly and smiled at him. "I never so much as thought about this thing until you."

"Hm?"

"I have to check it all the time these days."

"I'm sorry... Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I said. _Not at all..._

"Are you sure? You don't always respond."

"Well sometimes you leave me messages, and... I know this is a shocker, but... I don't understand what they mean."

"Heh. Like what?"

"Uhmm..." I flipped open the phone and browsed my inbox. I settled on the one from several days before when he had said "**behind you**" out of nowhere. I handed the phone to him so he could have the experience of reading it himself. He paused.

"Were you, really?"

"I don't know." He handed it back to me. "Depends if you want me to be."

"If I want you to be behind me...?"

He smiled. It struck me again. I closed the phone slowly.

"Would you still be, if I didn't?"

He did not seem like he had his answer prepared.

"Hello..." I looked up to the waiter. I almost could sense he was aware he'd come at the wrong moment. "My name is John, I'll be your server tonight..." Erik very weakly smiled at him. "Can I get you anything to drink?" Erik darted his eyes to me. I hadn't even thought about it.

"Uhhh... Sprite?"

"Okay..." He jotted it down and looked to Erik.

"As well," he added. I watched carefully for the server's reaction... There really was no way he wasn't thinking about the mask.

"Alright, I'll be right back with those..." As quickly as he arrived, he was gone. I noticed Erik smiling to the table just a bit before I decided to speak up.

"Do you go everywhere like this?"

He looked up. "It's not really an option."

"You mean, the mask..."

"There would be much more stares without it." So he was confirming what he had claimed to have done, yet again... "I told you..." He added, voice low.

"For some reason, I don't believe it's as bad as you say..."

"They never do."

I looked around us to make sure no one, even several tables down, was paying attention, and leaned forward.

"Will I ever see it?"

He thought a moment. "Do you want... 'exciting' ambiguity, or honesty?" I didn't know how to answer. "...The first is that it's extremely unlikely... We'd have to see how things... turn out. The latter is... that you never will."

He threw me off with the two answers. The pace at which he had said the first... suggested there was some significance to it. That could have been part of the trick though.

"Well... There's more to a person than their face. I can still learn everything about you, mask or not..."

"Heh... Sometimes a mask is... quite transparent once you start on that journey... of getting to know someone..." When he leaned forward, the tips of his hair brushed the table. "I think you can only trust the people who see you behind it..."

"Here you are..." The waiter set the two drinks down right in front of us, along with a basket of bread. "Are you ready to order or would you like a little more time?"

I glanced at the, still untouched, menus.

"A few more minutes?" I asked.

"Certainly." He backed off again. When I watched him leave, I noticed what appeared to be another girl, my age give or take, staring at Erik. I looked back to him and his eyes were a little downcast. He handed me a menu, and I opened it in front of me, but truthfully, I didn't particularly want to eat... Not in front of him, anyway... Everything seemed like too much.

Uncomfortably, my eyes ended up on him. He arms rested on the table. He was scrolling the menu, but it seemed very disinterestedly. I sighed audibly and he looked up, but didn't speak.

"I wish I had more of an appetite... It's just..."

"A foreign situation, and you're nervous..."

"I-It's difficult... with you... right there," I swished my hand, "the Infamous Note-Sender, across the table from me."

He laughed under his breath and smiled in another direction. I looked down at my lap.

"The 'Note-Sender'..."

"Yeah... That was my nickname for you... A while ago..." His smile seemed to grow all the larger.

"Tell me, do you nickname every guy you want to talk about without spoiling who it actually is?"

"Or if I don't know who they are," I pointed out. "And yes, it is a habit. I thought most people did it though."

"Not quite with as much abuse."

If he knew about some of my past nicknames for crushes, this was very embarrassing.

"Well it's all mock-abuse. That's just Meg and I's humor."

"I've noted. Although it took me a little time to figure that out. Sometimes I thought... 'they must be fighting'..."

I laughed. "Words, humor, what things are defined as in a relationship... can be very complex," I said, mostly down to the bread rather than him. "What one thing means to two people could mean something entirely different to another two... Whatever you saw, it was from a distance, so of course you wouldn't understand right away..."

I rose my eyes to him and he was locked on me.

"Meg... thinks we're near constantly mean to each other and extremely dysfunctional... for example. But she has no idea."

"We are dysfunctional," he said, "we don't function how she expects us to. That just isn't something that needs to be fixed, to me. I think I function best _with_ you, to be honest. It just took some time. The best things don't happen so fast, you know."

I gazed at him a while, answering him in my head in a lot of ways but wondering how best to actually put how I felt about him at the moment. He was the strangest mix I had ever met. He was both sweet and flattering, and attached and terrifying. If I had no feelings back, I would've left him long ago, but I did. Whenever he looked at me, I could tell I was the absolute center of his world. I was the one that listened. I was his compassion. Anyone as interested in me as he was, as intelligent, as insightful... had to be heard. Had to be cared about by somebody.

He threw all his potential into being there for me. That's why I felt I was doing right.

He must have noticed that I was officially out of words because he leaned to his side and pulled a small lavender box from under the table. "Oh... oh- What is that?" He moved away the clutter in between us and set the box in front of me.

"I saw this the other day. I thought if you had been there with me, you would have wanted to keep it."

"Erik, you already gave me a music box, for God's sake."

"You can't wear a music box," he reasoned.

I bit my lip and I reached out to lift the top. There inside was a butterfly, edged in "diamonds", two rows of jewels dangling below it as if the wings were a tied ribbon. I gaped a little and he sat there and laughed at my reaction, very quietly.

"This better be fake," was the first thing I said.

"It is," he replied honestly.

"And cheap. Otherwise..."

"You don't... deserve it?" He finished.

I paused. "I'm glad you caught on."

"You're silly." He said. Although... it did not seem to be an addition to our banter.

The waiter arrived again and I realized neither of us had really looked at the menus.

"All ready?"

I looked to Erik for a direction.

"We've decided to put off dinner, if that's okay..." He said to him. "We have a lot of... catching up to do..." By his last word, he was entirely focused on me.

"I'm sorry... I... we-... Is that okay?" I asked, strangely guilty.

"Not a problem at all. I'll drop by in a while to see how you're doing." He took a quick scan of the table... I'd sipped my drink but Erik hadn't touched his. I smiled as he left. Erik saw how perfunctory it must have looked and grinned while leaning back in his chair.

"...You think he minds?"

"I don't care if he minds. I'm paying to be here."

"Heh. I guess that's a valid point." I couldn't quite take the way he was looking at me so admirably, so I looked down to the necklace again. "I'm sorry I'm not that hungry."

"_Don't worry..._ I'm not either."

"Heh." I smiled. It made me happy I wasn't alone, although the bread in the basket nearby was starting to tempt me.

We started talking again after that, one subject flowing into another. It was, in all the nicest ways, very weird and very surreal, just to be sitting there, having a conversation with him as long and directionless as one would be with Giry, when we went out, or Meg...occasionally. Meg was never big on restaurants.

Eventually I went for the bread. He watched me pick at it with a smile.

"So you're hungry after all."

"Just a little..." I reasoned. "...I _like_ bread." He smiled wide enough to show his teeth. It was almost a new expression, and I really can't tell you why of all the comments I made, the one about having the bread seemed funniest to him... but soon he was copying me. It was like we were the same person in two completely different bodies... And he'd said that once before. I mean, something like it. I just didn't know where he got it from.

"You shouldn't eat with those," I pointed out, directed at his gloves. I felt terribly motherly after I said it, and wondered how he might react. He paused, mid grab. "...They're just... you know. You've touched a lot of doorknobs with those I'm sure. You could get sick."

He took great entertainment in this. Although he was silent and his face was turned, I knew he was trying very hard not to laugh at me. It was completely... perfectly... wonderful to watch him in this state. I had reached something in him genuinely human. It was like I was laying in his lap again, feeling his heartbeat against the side of my face.

He looked down to his hands, and he decided, then, to remove the glove on his right hand. He reached for the bread again and I could not help but stare. It was nothing out of the ordinary - pale as his face, the same long fingers... He turned them over when he rose them to his mouth and there seemed to be markings on them, as if he had poked them repeatedly with a pen. His red pen, it seemed.

He returned the glove shortly after. I tried to think of something else.

"Thank you..."

"...For what?"

"For everything you've been doing lately. You're making me feel spoiled."

I looked down at the butterfly within the box.

"You should try that on." I looked up.

"Right now?"

He rose from the table, so I followed his lead, and we approached our own reflection in a sort of hallway of mirrors at the end of the room, concealed by a turn in the walls. When I saw him in such concentrated light, in every surrounding reflection, it was a bit unnerving. He watched himself a moment, almost put in a trance by his own eyes, but I could see him when he finally neared me from behind and reached for the necklace. I took off the one I was already wearing and his hands rose over me. The cold butterfly fell lightly over my chest. His fingers were tickling the back of my neck trying to lock the clasp, but I tried not to show it.

After a struggle, he stopped. "These gloves aren't helping."

"Heheheh... Let me." I took the ends from him and did it rather quickly, all the while smiling at myself as he loomed over my left shoulder. It was a perfect fit for me... a butterfly... I wondered why exactly he picked it. Things were rarely without reason for him.

He continued to watch my reflection in silence.

"You're not gonna say it looks good on me?"

"You seem to argue with me whenever I...imply... that you're even relatively attractive, so..." Oh, I see how it was.

"I-I like arguing a little."

"If it would make things easier..." He leaned into my ear. "...You look fine, I suppose..."

I laughed a little in my exhale, and so did he; I could feel it on my skin. I liked and was unsure about our proximity all at once, but my body, a bit on its own, moved away from him, although I could tell he was following me. I did not need a mirror to tell me that, as I walked towards a window out in the open, stretching from floor to ceiling. The cityscape faded into the dark, nothing but a thousand lights below. It reminded me of one of the first times I had ever talked to Erik in the theater. Before I could so much as tap my extended finger on the glass, he held me from behind and very gently leaned into the side of my head. It gave me a sensation I wasn't used to at all.

"I think you've underestimated what I offered you ever since we met..."

I laid my hands over his, trying not to tense up, focusing on a blue light far away from there. "I'd like to spoil you, Christine..." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "As long as you confide in me, I'll give you _anything_. You haven't tested that. _I think you should."_

_"What do I give back...?"_

_"You don't have to worry about that."_

_"But there's always something. It's only right."_

_"I __**told**__ you... _You've given me what I wanted already."

"But what is it?"

"I'll tell you when it'll mean the most. Not now..."

I believed he would.

"How about we leave now?"

"I don't want you to take me home yet."

"I wasn't about to."

He let one hand slip away from my waist and lead me back to the table, where I collected my purse and we put on our coats. When we came to the front desk, although it was a little unconventional, they printed our bill for us there and he pulled nothing but a wad of money from his pocket. The bill was so cheap, he paid entirely in ones. I would've chipped in but I had nothing in my purse except the phone and a couple lip glosses.

I didn't know where we were going once we were outside the building. He started down the opposite direction that we had arrived, and I just went with it. Staying close to him, talking... Holding his arm... He welcomed it all. So well, I started to wonder how this date would end.


	35. Chapter 35 Dream P2

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 35 - Dream, Pt. 2

"I have something I'd like to ask you," I said, after a ways down the street. "Why don't you take me somewhere... that you visit all the time. Or sometimes. Somewhere that's important to you."

He took his time figuring out what to say.

"...What makes you think anywhere is important to me?"

"The theater's important to you, isn't it?..." I wished I'd not worded it in such a way afterward.

"It just as much oppresses as it helps..."

"What?"

"It's a mistake for me to be attached to anything,"

"Do you know someone there? Is that how you're able to do whatever you want?"

His walking slowed, and I wasn't prepared for his stop. I faced him quickly, the boldness of my questioning sinking in, for both of us.

"...That's a given, isn't it." Funny that his answer did nothing. "I-If you expect to know more, I'm... sorry." He came past me and I followed.

"You don't have to tell me more. I wasn't asking you to take me somewhere important so I could figure you out. I just wanted to understand you better. How you live, what you see..."

"You'd really hate to see what I see... And how I live won't mean anything, s'long as I can have you..."

"What?"

"I'd change it..."

He disappeared into a dark edge along a building wall and I came to it nervously. He was approaching a fence in the alley, it's shape hard against the light at the other side. He shook the door which appeared to be locked and paused. "Will you wait here a moment?"

"Sure."

He turned back to the fence and positioned his umbrella very particularly against the cement. Then, like nothing, he stepped onto the thick handle, gripped the top of the fence, and propelled himself over. The umbrella swung down and rolled. I stared at it all until he had retrieved it after unlocking the door and coming through.

Now that the light hit my face, he could see I looked surprised.

"...I've gotta try that some time," I accidentally said out loud.

He smiled and held my hand, leading me out of there. "Make sure it's sturdy. They snap occasionally."

He kept us walking along the street, his eyes downcast the entire way, to keep the stares out of his conscience. With a hesitance you'd think would be gone after all this time, my hands came around his arm and I took away some of that space between us. I trusted him to lead me and looked only at him, directly to his eye, to see if there was any way to tell what he was thinking. "You know, everything you do teaches me about the way you live, even though you think you're keeping it a secret... And I find it interesting."

"Heheh... If you had known what you were really saying, that'd be a wonderful compliment."

"I know a lot more about you than you think. It doesn't come from detail - it comes from... I see it. I hear it. ...Language is only half words. I don't get your words, but I think about why you use the ones you do and how you use them. In that respect, you _are_ transparent. Sometimes..."

He didn't know what to say, either that or he'd decided to try ending it there. A railing ahead finally reached my right. We were passing over water. He stopped us there, right in the middle, and I saw the water flowing underneath the bridge's shadow. Ours became one when he leaned over my shoulder.

"_I think this is where they end up sometimes,_" he whispered.

"Where what end up?" I squinted into the dark blue ripples, disappearing into a blackness, sparkling with the city's glow. It flowed into nothing, from this place. "You know that doesn't make any sense to me."

"I like to write things to people. I think they like the idea of messages from strangers. It makes them feel they have found something important... not by chance. "

"So you are, in fact, a Note-Sender."

"Heh... I suppose I am."

"Why do you do it?"

"I like the fact that you can communicate, and receive communication, no matter who or where you are... or when you are... what's more powerful than that?"

I didn't know what to say.

"We know about worlds that have been gone for millenniums. I feel that's how far you and I are separated sometimes, even though we can connect with things long gone..." I turned away from the water, right into him.

"Neither of us are long gone." He didn't bother to retract, only to put his hands on the railing each to my side. His hair started to fall in front of him, framing his mask and isolating this gaze I couldn't really describe.

"Like you said... I came from somewhere else, and you're following me back. It all started with me reaching, and there is something about that... It makes me want to live _for_ it. At least a while longer."

I knew immediately he had turned this into something dark. Something I had no experience addressing. He was coming towards me without moving at all. I felt like I was tipping over the edge, the sounds of the water a little harder in my ear.

"Erik... You make out like you're this 'no one,' like there's nothing admirable about you," I tried to say calmly, staring into the space between us; at a stringy shadow that the fallen hair created on my extended arms, "but you think in a way not everyone does... a way that might give you something great... which you deserve... ...I don't want _me_... to be the only thing you have. And that weight on me that I could let you down and you'd never come back up. You're much... much... bigger than me. Inside, I mean..." The more I added, the less he began to react, like I had brought on great uncertainty, all by accident... I didn't mean it like I didn't want to be there for him. "I just get this feeling... you put me in front of everything. ...I can't make your life perfect just by being with you. I can try to make it better, and I hope I do, but I can't make it perfect. "

It would've been relieving getting that off my chest if he weren't looking at me in such a way. I only glanced to see that, keeping my focus on that space...

Eventually he retracted. He didn't say a word the whole way back to his car. It started to rain again and he held the umbrella over us, mostly me. He opened the passenger door for me and my eyes wandered to him, watching me situate, and drenched. "You'd be surprised what you could do," he told me, leaving no room for a response by closing the door immediately afterward.

* * *

Silence between us. I checked the clock as he was driving. It was 9:14. The dance was over.

I was supposed to be home, and that was the last place I wanted to be. Everything felt so incomplete, I almost couldn't stand it. I watched him drive... So much more carefully than I would have expected... I'm sure he was thinking, and I hoped his thoughts were similar to mine. I hoped I hadn't said something discouraging. Here, we had this wonderful night. He turned such a normal thing incredibly abnormal.

I liked that he was strange.

I liked his note-writing, his mannerisms, this feeling, completely sincere, that he was not of this world. If that was only up in his head, and he was crazy, it would make no difference.

Craziness was really the only way out of this world. The only kind of magic.

And so, in a way, I felt every mile was further away.

Then... I noticed the familiar setting: my street, and my house pass by. He turned down the theater road and I sat a little straighter. The building came closer and closer and I watched as our car rolled off the gravel, literally into the forest. He carefully applied the break and turned behind the building, where we stopped. He took no time opening his door and the car light went on, but it very little helped me see.

"What are we doing here?" I tried to ask, but his door closed too quickly. The rain was hitting hard all around, but I saw his black shape open the umbrella behind the gushing water over the window. My door was opened and he leaned forward as best he could, to keep the place directly to my side free of the rain. "What are we doing here?" I repeated.

"We're going inside."

I felt a little on edge suddenly, from the ideas of what might've been ahead of us at this point. What if we were continuing the night he answered my questions? ...I couldn't assume... I was afraid to freeze again already.

There was no time to sit there; I had to step out. When I did so, my feet were welcomed wholeheartedly by freezing cold grass. I grimaced and we both looked down. "I'm sorry," he muttered, but his reaction quick - he set the umbrella over the car and bent down. Both his arms whipped me right up, so fast I sort of grabbed him around the shoulders a little harder than I would have with a clear mind. Somehow he managed to clutch the umbrella with the arm underneath my knees and slammed the door closed with his back.

He walked in no hurry across the side of the building, grip unwavering. His steps made my forehead sift into his neck a little. I didn't know if this was necessary, but fuck, I didn't, or couldn't, mind an excuse to hold on so tight. I hoped he couldn't feel anything tense in me; any sign that I was... well, for lack of better terms, freaking. If anything was obvious, I figured talking might hide it.

"You're stronger than you look," I said, hoping it wasn't a backhanded compliment.

"You don't weigh much."

"Really? I put on a few during the holidays," I tried to joke, to bring us back to a place I knew.

He waited until he was ready to set me down before he responded. "If you did, I can't tell." I held his umbrella for him and he lowered me to the ground. "Nor would I really care..." he sort of said to himself, leading me towards the side door.

"It's past 9:00, you know," I said up to him. He just kept going, keeping focus on me.

"I know."

At the door, he reached for his keys and unlocked it. He had to use the light outside, mostly that of the moon, to take off his coat and put it on the wrack. But when he closed the door, there was very little to see. "What are we doing here?" I asked him, but he wouldn't answer. He took me along the front of the seats and stopped somewhere in the middle to lift me up to the edge of the stage. His hands stayed. I could feel him but I could barely see him... It almost felt like that very first time...

The silence that followed made the nerves kick in even more. The touch on my waist went away, but I couldn't make out what he was thinking, what he was about to do... not even what I could do in reaction. Suddenly a dim light came over the floor and the first few rows. A very dark grey mask was sort of floating in front of me. Out of instinct, I looked behind and found the Christmas lights dangling down the curtains were glowing all by themselves. I turned back to him and his hands were rising from the dark. They landed on the sides of my knees. It looked as if he was staring at me but when I concentrated, he was looking off across the bare stage floor. There was nothing out today.

"Are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

"Is there something you want to tell me?..."

.

.

_"No... I..."_

_._

_.  
_

_"You say a lot of things... And it takes me a while to process. ...I know you mean them, but I don't know if they count..." _He trailed.

"..Of course they count-"

_"If they count, then I'm more important than I would have expected." _I hoped my following silence confirmed. I could see his eyes shift in my direction. _"Are you sure I'm the right person?" _It was a rather strange question to ask me.

"The right person to what?"

_"I want to make sure you're not confusing me with someone else."_

"I couldn't confuse you with anyone."

_"I have to know you're aware of what you're doing."_

_"I want to be here and I've told you I care about you. You don't listen... I think you should..." _The words sounding just like his, I realized I was entirely caught up in him. He took a while coming to a response with that comment. I was still so full of nerves, I dropped my hands over his, just to be sure they'd stay where they were. "You don't need to make sure of this anymore. I-I trust you. I want you to spoil me. Erik-"

_"-Will you stay here?" _The question was abrupt.

_"You want me to stay... at the theater."_

_"I want you to stay... with me."_

_"I... I don't know. I don't know how I would do that, even if I wanted to."_

_"Does that mean you want to?"_

_"I..."_ Oh God, what did I say? What answer did I even mean? What did he want from me? "It depends what would happen."

He laughed a little, quietly, and I was losing control of my... oh blast... what are they called... Hormones. I couldn't remember a time in the last seventeen years I had ever felt the way I did just hearing that.

_"Nothing more than what you want."_

My hands came around his fingers a little tighter.

"To be honest, I'm a little confused about that."

We remained stuck in this thought as the clock ticked in my head. The time was all gone for me to be with him without anyone wondering where I was... But he was that dream... that dream so good... You keep waking up from it and wondering if it meant something or if your mind just wanted to breathe... Here was this chance to stay asleep. He needed to be played out once and for all, and...

"Can I just keep talking to you?" I asked.

He paused... I wondered what that pause meant. "...Of course."

"...Can I know I'm safe... if I fall asleep..." He paused again. "And you won't stare at me when I do," I added, only half joking.

"...You won't find yourself _safer_.... _with anyone else,_" he pronounced very clearly, eyes coming right through me.

.

.

.

I still wasn't sure. Oh God, what if I had done this... However would I: it just kept running through my head.

"I promise. I won't stare at you and I won't so much as touch you when you fall asleep."

.

.

"I promised you wouldn't regret leaving. Do you?"

.

.

"No."

"Then I keep promises."

I continued to think and his eyes wandered. He wasn't acting desperate, but I felt I would be letting him down so much if I said no. He was the extra push to stay, even though I was confused with myself.

A ringing came from my purse and I think all the blood drained from my face. I wasn't too quick reaching for the phone, but when the text over the front was too long to be "mom" or "dad", I checked to find it was only Giry.

"It's Giry."

"You should answer it."

I flipped open the phone.

"...Hello?"

"Hi..." I took a deep breath. "Are you home yet?"

"No." I'm sure _she knew_ that_ I knew_ the time. At this, I couldn't think of what else to say... "...Uhm... How... How was the dance?"

"It was... good... Is everything okay over there?"

"Yeah... it's... okay enough to want to stay..."

She didn't have an answer. I knew I was going somewhere uncharted with even Giry feeling unsure.

"You need an alibi, right?"

"For the whole night." Erik just watched me. It was... hard to come up with my words.

"...Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to," I said. "For me... For both of us, I mean."

"Is he there right now?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Do you want to talk this over with me? Because if you do, you can tell him to back off."

"What? No... We've already talked about it."

"You don't sound sure."

"I am," I lied. "I-I understand if you can't help. You've already done a lot for me, and," I wanted to add... maybe someone should be talking me out of this. I couldn't with him right in front of me. "If you can't, I have to come home." Suddenly the other line was beeping. I checked and it was Mom.

"You can tell your parents you're staying with me but I just want to make sure he's not pressuring you."

"He's not." _Beep._

"Alright. Well I can come get you in like ten minutes. Where are you?"

"I'm at the theater." _Beep._

"Okay."

"I owe you for this, I really do. I have to go. My mom is calling me."

This perked up Erik pretty quickly.

"Okay," _Beep._

"Bye."

"Bye."

We looked to each other for a moment and I switched lines.

"Hi Mom."

"Hi Lily - where are you?"

"I'm just... heading out. I stayed a little longer with Giry and she's taking me back."

"Giry?" Oh dear.

"Sorry: Paulina."

"Oh. Well Mariam just called the house. I... wasn't sure what was taking you so long."

Mariam was calling me... ?

"Yeah, sorry, we were talking at the front and I forgot to call."

"You've been forgetting a lot lately."

"I know. Sorry."

"It's okay... I know you're just up the street."

"Heh... Uhm... Paulina wanted me... to sleep over. I thought I'd just come by and... you know... get some stuff and go."

"Okay..."

"Yeah... w-we're gonna go now. I'll see you soon."

"Alright."

"Bye Mom."

"Bye Lil."

I hung up and took a deep breath. Several was more like it. Erik took his hands out from under mine and stroked my arms.

"Aghh..." I sighed, dropping my face. He leaned a little closer to me.

_"That strength I need from you... I see it now."_

My face rose again at the peculiar words.

_"What? The strength to lie?"_

_"You have to."_

"I know. But I never used to lie to my parents like this... I'm not used to it. They don't deserve to be lied to."

_"But you deserve to be happy."_

"You keep saying that but I don't want to be happy and hurt people. I... I wish it wasn't so difficult to spend time with you. I just don't feel I could ever tell them you even exist."

"You won't have to lie anymore when you leave."

...What.

"Leave... You mean when I go to-"

"College... _is what I meant." _He stopped looking at me again and I felt weird. Either he didn't mean what he said, or he expected us still to be this way two years from now. I couldn't begin to perceive what I would have that far in the future.

"Sometimes being seventeen really sucks..." I trailed... though that probably wasn't in much character... not that I ever was entirely.

"It all matters who you are with...and how they treat 'seventeen'... _I wouldn't hold you back..._" He whispered. It seemed so sincere, and so eerie all at once. "Let's wait for her, then." He stepped back a little and waited for me to hold to him. As I did, and he brought me back on the floor, I realized he hadn't been told she was coming.

"How did you know that?"

We stepped through the exit door into the black hallway and he made our way across the entire lobby without even seeing where he was going. On the way he asked, "know what?" As if it wasn't clear.

"That Giry was coming to get me."

He opened the front doors and I heard no response after that... the only sound that of the hard rain, still pouring so relentlessly. How Giry could see out here, I didn't know.

"It was... easy to figure," he finally answered.

"If you say so."

From behind, I felt his hand rise onto my shoulder. He tilted his head and smiled a little.

Her car came down the road a few minutes later and I sprinted for it a little hastily. She took her time turning us to face the road again, watching Erik in the doorway. He was nothing but a face and a collar, never blinking, growing smaller behind us. What I would have with me tonight. It was like coming out of bed to sleep in the closet with that shadow I always watched, back when I believed in monsters.


	36. Chapter 36 Self Control

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 36 - Self Control

During the entire way, I never got the sense Giry was much excited for what lied ahead, as much as she usually was. She didn't act _bothered_, she didn't act _scared_, not even like there was something to talk about, but the silence said everything. My brain could sort of understand - it could tell itself many times over that I was crossing a line, but my heart just didn't get it.

Or maybe it wanted to cross a line.

There was me and there was her, but between us was that shadow. It was much like how they say a ghost feels even though you can't see it. This tenseness when you walk into a room alone... I don't know where it all came from so fast. At the time, I think I just mistook it for the urgency to finish this incomplete dream. I almost forgot to say goodbye to her when we pulled up, but her hand grabbed me by the wrist, hard, and I dropped back into my seat.

"Could you close the door a moment?" She asked. I actually huffed a little before I did. "Are you really doing this?"

"Nothing is going to happen."

"You _don't_ know that," she told me, as sternly as my mother would.

"He _told _me."

She averted her eyes a moment and almost looked to be shaking her head in the process. "That doesn't... _mean... anything."_

_"It does. He's crazy but he doesn't lie. He always means what he says. He's been honest even when I didn't want him to."_

I expected she would be, but she did not seem effected by my words at all. I knew him best and I thought I had said something very true, and still we were moving further and further away from each other.

I reached for the door again and she calmly said the word "charm" under the sound of my shuffling. I pretended I'd never heard it and stepped out, but the car behind me was idle while I came up the deck, like there was some other thing that needed to be said from one of us. I had to open the door and wait before she started moving, and only once I was completely behind her did his hand touch my shoulder. As soon as that, I no longer stayed to watch her disappear.

"Are you tired?" Was the first thing he asked, even though I couldn't see him. I still felt where Giry had grabbed my left hand. Strangely.

"Not yet..." We walked a ways and a crack of light appeared in front of me, opening into the auditorium, and his white arm-less hand on the edge of a door. I followed it to his face. "Are you?" He smiled.

"I don't think you realize how late I stay awake."

"Four in the morning?"

"Sometimes later... Where should we go?" I really had no preference.

"How about the balcony? ...We can... pretend to watch something."

His eyes flickered in response and he sunk back into the dark, for the stairs, I presumed, so I followed his dim shape, reaching for the empty hand at his side. His fingers tightened right away. Maybe it was my never being with anyone before, but I continuously found something special in those simple things.

"So do you sleep at all?" I asked, realizing I sounded like a certain individual who kept accusing him of being a vampire.

"Not a lot." We moved very slowly down the isle, I could see more of him as we went and he was doing that thing again... where he looks at nothing but me and I worry he'll trip. "I have a hard time staying asleep... I'm kind of restless."

"Maybe I should teach you to meditate," I offered, remembering my book.

"And try to make my mind tranquil? ...That's impossible." The first seemed mildly entertained, the second lost that feeling. "My thoughts are always racing. It's taken a lot of practice just to understand which to act on and which to not..." Suddenly I was highly intrigued. He had stopped to sit on the balcony edge and lean, as he so often did, surveying the empty room. It didn't seem to reflect as empty in his eye.

"Everyone... kind of has to do that though."

"We have a different outcome, if things go wrong... I'm mostly thankful for it though... I've really... come a long way... having self control... I know the Me that doesn't..."

"It's funny you say that. I'm starting to understand the Me that doesn't... and I like it more, even though it's hard to reach that." He looked down on me like I had pulled him back from that dark place he had started towards.

"I do too."

"...So you can't sleep because you wanna put roses all over my deck."

"Hehh!..." He laughed. _Godamnit_... He did this and I wanted this space between us to disappear, for me to be bold enough to make it to, but I couldn't. "That's it, exactly."

He stopped speaking, so I... I just moved forward slightly, enough to make our knees touch. He saw everything in this small action and his hand holding to the railing stretched out so he could finish off that distance. My arms came up around him as soon as I had the chance and instead of resting over his shoulder, I pressed my forehead against his. He withdrew his own breath, and so did I. It was surprising to me at first that we would have the same reaction. Eventually I had to let it go, I did it as softly as I could, and he did too, but I still felt it.

I had been told this moment was the start of a kiss, because you almost felt it already, because of its inevitability, but my face began to fall towards my own lap. I was too scared to follow through.

_"I'm sorry.."_

_"I can wait,"_ he whispered into my ear, pressing as close to me as he could. It brought about a great deal of comfort. _"Two years..."_ He finished, sounding very content, but the way his fingers brushed over me, the way he breathed... I knew better. I meant my apology.

Eventually I settled against him and thought as the hand behind me stroked my hair. He did it so gently I may have been tiring, and he may have been staring at me, but I didn't care. I held on tight.

"I liked someone once, for two years," came out after a little while. "It was in middle school. I... had a crush on him at the end of fifth grade and we ended up transferring to the same place, and then it just kept getting worse, and I remember he was even dating a girl for a while, and I saw them once at a dance, together, and it made me so angry. Heh..." I paused, wondering if he had anything to say, but he waited for me to continue, still stroking my hair. "When I found out I had to move here, I decided I needed to tell him once and for all that I'd always liked him... I figured it wouldn't make a difference what he thought. So I... wrote him a love letter." I looked down to my lap again. "It was very poetic."

_"I can imagine it would be,"_ he finally replied, much softer than I'd been speaking to him. The contrast of then and now was amazing...

"He... never replied. And I know he got it, because I asked my friend to give it to him face-to-face. It was _so_ nerve-wracking... I kept thinking... 'Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be the day,' but it wasn't, and I convinced myself that... he hadn't exactly said no... maybe he was shy... So I... when... by the time we'd moved here, I was still stuck on going back, that this was _temporary_... partly because I thought when I came back he might have given me a chance or something. But I know now that he'd actually just rejected me."

He was quiet, so I sighed.

"It was hard, though, being around him that long, feeling sort of hopeless. Thinking I should just move on. He only noticed me _sometimes_. I think he forgot my name occasionally."

"Hmph."

"I always seem to like people who don't know I exist. Or I like people who don't exist. Just an idea of a person... a wonderful person... For a year, I told myself I was in love with _you_... I mean... the idea of you... When I was a freshman. I was actually kind of happy that way. I was committed, in here," I put my hand to my heart, "I wasn't alone... I... I had an angel... you know?"

I tried to look up to him and he released me a little so he could retract, so he could come right through me wit his eyes.

"You _did_..." He said in a very confirming tone... For a second I was at a loss why he was confirming my own fantasy when his own side came to light.

"M-Maybe I felt you around." He wasn't so sure of that. "I hope I did." He breathed in and out, like he may have spoken, but changed his mind. "...How far are we going to take this? I just want to know what... what you're thinking."

"In what way do you mean?"

"You were telling me... I wouldn't... need to lie to my parents, when I moved, for school."

"If I stayed with you... that's all I meant." He stared at the floor and the hand behind me slipped away.

"I do want you to stay with me."

_"For how long, though?" _

"For... as long as we need each other."

"That may never stop."

I watched his gaze move along the space between us. He seemed to be watching my reaction in his peripheral. I had no idea how this could be answered, and what my feelings were, even.

I could've been so thankful he was willing to wait for me, that he was committing to a relationship... but it brought me back to that conversation with Giry... about my Christine-self... convincing Lily that she wants to be with this person she doesn't know... How did I even know that he meant it... who was he right now? He hadn't called me Christine in a while. I felt like I was Lily, and my most instinctive answer was that it was okay if it never stopped.

"...I don't mind if it comes to that. ...It's too far ahead to think about, though."

"I know... You're so young." He was slightly smiling at the floor now.

"And you're old... Is that what you're getting at? Because I don't buy it."

"I... certainly have a few on you."

"How old are you?"

"...You look tired."

"Oh, come on." He paused a long while. "Are you old enough to buy a drink?"

"I don't drink."

"That's... not exactly the answer to my question," I said, matter-of-factly. This seemed to put him in a good mood again.

"I know."

Oh! I saw how it was. ...I tried to think of something full of wit to say back, but before I had worked it out, he rose.

"There's something I need to tend to very quickly..."

"...Alright," I said like it was nothing at all. Truthfully, I didn't know why I couldn't just follow him. He seemed regretful, but he was down the stairs shortly after, leaving me at the edge of the balcony a bit clueless.

I set my hands on the railing again and found my gold reflection. It was hard to see, but I could tell the night had taken a toll on me. If there was one thing I didn't like about guys it was that they never told you when you looked like crap so you could fix it.

My brush was with the stuff I brought so I took out my barrettes, fixed myself up, and waited for him still.

I knew it had been at least ten minutes when my phone beeped inside my purse.

_**I'm being interrupted, it seems. Please wait. I won't let this take more than 20 min. **_

What in the hell was going on?

I took the phone with me and went down the stairs. I had seen enough disturbing things around here not to be scared anymore what I would find. That sounds like some kind of foreshadowing that I was an idiot wandering into something bad, I know, but I didn't want to wait. I almost wanted to stumble into a reality.

He wasn't at the front porch, he wasn't behind any door I opened along the way. The only place remaining was the hallway stairs, all the more unlit as I descended. The air down here was cold, almost uncomfortable to breathe at first. I knew I'd reached a place I didn't belong, it almost felt tense, even to be at the foot of the stairs, watching the floor just disappear into total black.

When I turned towards the steps again, a door just to the left caught my attention. It distinguished itself from the other (visible) ones because it was slightly open. I sort of let myself gravitate toward it and raise my arm, just to tap it. To make sure everything around me was silent, I stayed a moment, eyes on the floor, until it seemed safe to push that door all the way back and raise my other hand along the inside wall of this room. My fingers successfully found a switch, which startled me because I didn't want to shed this room with light until I was ready.

I waited to feel sure, by a confirming silence, that I was the only one there, silly as it was considering Erik was quite good at showing up without making any sound. I wasn't really afraid of him finding me as I was someone else. I knew he wasn't always alone.

I made myself do it quickly and a very weak blue-ish light flooded the room and flickered over the cement floor. A stain along the wall ran from it to the edge of a metal shelf, littered with nameless containers, all covered with dust, and webs... I took a moment just to study a spider, dry and tangled, long since dead.

It came to my attention not long after that across that tiny room was another open door. I couldn't see anything past it, even when I crossed my arms tightly and stepped to the edge, looking out into nothing... I thought it was the under side of the stage.

I looked back into the room and I faced the other side, which had a long white sink, rust everywhere... and so red, it made me uneasy.

Just then a sound I couldn't quite describe came from beyond the second door, and I was out of there, instantaneously. I flicked the light and went back up those stairs like death itself was chasing me, returning to where I was expected to be with haste.

He still didn't come back after that, though.

In no hurry, I made my way to the balcony, took a seat at the front, and eased further and further back into my chair, eventually with my forehead rested in my hand. It was almost 11 PM. _Who_ gets interrupted doing _anything _that late? Did he know _other_ insomniacs?

I realized I had dozed off when a hand landed very gently on my arm, shaking me with some sort of timidness. I shot my eyes open and he was kneeling next to my chair. It came as a surprise to me that I'd fallen asleep at all, given that I was _here_... and I could tell he thought it funny. "You told me not to touch you if you fell asleep, but..."

"I wasn't sleeping, actually."

"You're tired."

"You're not," I insisted. I was not going to fall asleep this early. I mean, just _because_ I couldn't sleep at all last night, thinking about this dance, and woke up at 7:00 for school... i-i-it didn't mean I had to sleep yet. It just didn't.

"You don't want to wait for me."

I sat up straight. "We'll see how it goes."

My comment brought about soft laughter. "Alright." The hand on my arm slid down and held mine with a slight tug. "You don't look comfortable here," he said, rising.

I did the same and felt a stretch. "I-I'm not that tired, I was just resting because _you_ just flat-out disappeared f-for a-"

"I'm sorry."

He took my bag in his other arm and we headed for the back door.

"You gonna tell me why?" I had his whole arm tightly in my clutch all the way down the stairs.

"I had to return something to someone who wasn't willing to wait."

"Which is..."

"Heh... Disappointing, because I really wanted to spend that time with you."

"That doesn't answer my-...question..." At the start of the hallway, I realized he was about to take me down below. I tried to be passive about it.

When we reached the bottom, I noticed that the door to the left was closed, completely. I'd left it as open as when I entered.

He took us into the darkness before I could think anything else of it. A room opened in front of me, its glow almost unimaginable. Every candlestick I had ever seen on the stage was lining this room. The smell of the burning wax broke into the hallway as soon as the door was opened.

We stepped in at the same time and he used his free hand to swing the door closed behind us. The first thing in front of us was a bed, completely red, which put me on end, even though it should've have, because he'd promised.

"I told you I don't want to sleep yet."

I turned around and saw his smile, with his eyes illuminated by the flames. I could make out the rings of his irises. It was kind of beautiful. Actually. "...We'll see _how it goes_," he reassured, a little smugly. "Why don't you sit down?"

Why not? ...

I watched him as he approached a tall table at his left while resting just at the edge of the bed. It had a stack of books, and on the top, one which resembled what I gave him. He took off his coat there, and I averted my eyes, watching his shadow instead, and the shadow of the candlesticks. I think I was afraid of actually being attracted to him.

"Are you okay?"

I turned back and he was just standing there, looking... won...derful.

"Hhghh. Of course." He slid next to me and stared, practically waiting for me to crack... I'd ran out of words a while ago. I clutched my hands in my lap. My gaze was somewhere in the space between us, but I was watching his white hand on the bed.

"...I terrify you," he told me. I looked up and he was piercing through me again, except I had never seen his eyes so bright.

"...I-I think you do."

"...Can I change that?"

I thought about it a moment.

"...No." I watched for his response. A tiny smile at the edge of his mouth died away. "I've never been this terrified. But I think I need to be."

As that sunk in for him, I could feel the space vanishing again, and I dropped my face and rose my hand to bring my hair behind my ear, even though it was already there.

"...Can we still talk?" I felt really juvenile asking, like I was wasting his time, but he didn't seem phased.

"Anything you want," he answered quietly, retracting. He was good at hiding his disappointment.

He let me ask him completely inane questions to escape this terrible tension between us afterward. And I kept staring at him the whole time. I got tired and laid across the bed with my feet still on the floor and he mirrored me, and I almost couldn't take it anymore. Perhaps the only thing that stopped me was that I was nodding off, and it would've taken a considerable amount of energy to be propelled by lust at this point.

He never got tired. The way he looked at me, it was as though I was the only thing that existed, like there was no such thing as midnight. I tried to keep up with him, I really did. He never stopped waiting to hear me speak again, even when my sentences grew meaningless and short. I wasn't expecting to feel a weight on my waist and a hand around my back as I was dozing, but he did it only to guide me to the top of the bed, where I curled up, covering half my face, a habit when I was sleepy.

He got up to extinguish the candles when he thought he had lost me, and came back. He didn't try to speak to me, he just laid the same distance apart as before. He had no idea how much I appreciated that gesture.


	37. Chapter 37 Into the Darkness

**Author's Note  
**My creativity in all forms has been on a serious back-burner for a while. I won't get into my problems, but to say the least, I've had some. Haven't gotten a THING done, but this... somehow during all the chaos I pulled this huge chapter out, working on it little by little when I could. I'm actually kind of proud of it, although a couple things could be better. I was so excited to post it, though, that I didn't even wait for my beta's response. XD I can post a revised version if I need to, you guys just won't notice.

Anyway, hoping you guys like it, as usual. And I hope tomorrow I can start on the next.

**

* * *

HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 37 - Into the Darkness

When the night had passed, I awoke with my eyes still closed, listening to the silence of the room, wondering if we were still together, or if he had disappeared.

I'd had a dream, an awfully clear one, that I sat up at some point, and he was gone. The door was locked from the inside, but it was the same black hallway, uninviting even on the opposite end of the stairs.

When I opened my eyes, he was across from me in the exact same place. The colors of the room had changed, but almost nothing else. I looked closer and realized there was one other thing that was different. ...He was out like a light.

I didn't feel this could possibly last for more than a second, under some belief he couldn't sleep at all. Each time I realized I was peering into the shadows on his closed eyes, I looked down to the comforter, to his hand, still and open. He had to be waiting... for some stir from me to reanimate him, but when I rose just a little and leaned forward, nothing changed.

Rather than waking him up, I spent a great while sitting next to him, fixing my hair as quietly as I could, watching his shoulder rise and fall.

He captured me, asleep. He reminded me of a porcelain doll, almost, with his hard smooth "face", and gloves, and coat tails dropping off the side of the bed. Unlike me, hair a'tussle and crinkled dress, he looked like he had simply been knocked over from his display.

You could break a doll.

Asleep, he was mortal, and vulnerable. Asleep, he could not grip me with his eyes, or reach out to touch me and make my blood rush. His control was gone right now, but it made me wonder how much he ever really had. What if he just waited, all this time, for me to see him in the window? To take him with me, rather than I with him? He let himself fall, when I said no. It was okay for him, as long as he fell next to me.

The more I observed, the more I came to find that there was something underneath the white sleeve at his wrist. I didn't catch it at first because it was tinted white, just a frayed cloth, tucked away. Inspection of this brought me closer, till I saw his phone behind his arm, slid into his chest by his weight over the bed. It would've been so easy to reach it.

I did what I shouldn't and caught it between two fingers, and removed it so slowly, so it wouldn't tap against him. He was completely still when I had it in my hands. I felt so much power at that weird little moment. It wasn't a particular power I loved - but he had exercised the same kind on me so many times, I almost didn't have regret.

So there I was, with my back turned, looking for his messages.

It seemed he had a lot, but the dates, at least at the top, were far apart.

The first one: _You cant, Im sorry. _

Sent... this morning at 2:48. From 5037918955.

The second: _Youre going to have to ask him i have no fucking idea._

Sent yesterday, before I met him at the dance... 5:10 P.M. From "Demitri".

The third was from me... I texted him while I was getting ready, just to say so... It helped me feel a little less nervous... He never replied to it though.

The next was "I'll call you later," from me.

The next: _The second week of feb, W 5-10, T 5-10, F 5-12_

Sent 1/5, from... Theater?

A ton of these messages were from me, piled up one after the other, as if everything else in the past month or two had been deleted but these, and any type of information he needed to remember in the close future. It was like he prepared for someone looking through his phone.

I looked over my shoulder and he was no more awake than before.

Now for his contacts... A lot of names I didn't know, mostly guys, somewhat strange names... It made me conscious that he had a name himself... I looked at many of them trying to imagine if they were his... I didn't really know what kind of a name he looked like, either...

I watched him sleep again for another moment...

'Erik' was the only thing that made sense to _me_.

I was Christine in this list, as well.

My scrolling continued until I found Giry. I stared at the letters a moment, trying to remember if he ever had the opportunity to meet her... Know anything about her, really... Sure, I talked about him with her all the time, but never about her with him.

Not once.

...Did they talk or did she even know she was right here?

I finished up looking, although after the contact list, my inspiration to look had passed, just thinking that I might have discovered his real name this way. I set it back in his shadow, behind the arm, and got off the bed to take the mirror out of my bag and make sure I didn't have eye-liner smeared all over my face.

Before I could make it, I heard him breathe very audibly and looked over, surprised... hoping none of what I did before that moment was realized. As he dropped to his back his hands clenched. I dropped back down and sat in front of him, and his arms stopped tensing. His eyes came down on me and I tried to look like I wasn't worried about how terrible I must've appeared post-sleep.

I waited for him to completely come-to when I felt his hand, out of nowhere, grab the end of my dress.

"I don't think I'm awake yet," he said, tiredly.

"Why's that?" I asked back, smiling.

He averted his eyes and tried to prop himself up. I just kept waiting... I wanted to hear him speak more. He had a lovely voice when he was tired - I'd only gotten to hear it a few rare times that we stayed up to talk to each other.

"Did you sleep well?"

"_Yes_. What were you saying?" He turned his face and revealed the side he had been sleeping on. I could see where his mask ended and two thick wires came around his ear. They were tight. They made his skin pink.

"The rest is a little much."

"You've always been a little much, don't you think?" He found that entertaining.

I wasn't really thinking about it when I reached out to fix that messed up hair. When my fingers made it to his shoulders I took them back and smiled again, awkwardly.

"I was only thinking... There's much contrast between what happens to me when I sleep, and when I'm awake... This isn't a waking thing..." He sort of muttered to himself.

"It is. Actually." He was still looking down at the red sheets, not really showing one reaction or the other to my comment. After a long gaze he looked up at me again and that gripping in his eyes had come back again. I sort of felt pulled by it by now, to do things I wouldn't normally. Today that gripping was no longer just a force of thought, but a force of action. I put my arms down and moved to his side, and he welcomed me quickly, like there was no doubt in his mind it was the right place for me to be. My arms reached around him, fingers spread, trying to experience that action to its fullest, down to the feel of his shirt's fabric.

Why did it have to be this way? I was charmed like a snake. Gone. His.

We didn't even talk after this. All of the communication was in the unwavering embrace. Here I go off again, like a romance novel, never with legitimate words to describe how I feel.

Those doubts last night... no more... I wouldn't trade anything for this. I'd been waiting for it, underneath, for longer than I dared imagine. Even messed-up people need love.

A white hand came over mine before I freed it and held on, frustrated by the material between our skin. "Can I really hold your hand?" I asked quickly, not sure how he would take it, but he more than willingly gave me the chance to take hold his fingertips and free him of any barrier he had created, to me.

Room still silent as ever, my palm felt the pulse in his veins. My focus was on our hands, their difference in size, how mine, short and ordinary, contrasted with his - long, slender, almost as colorless as the gloves that covered them.

Except those red marks, hidden almost by his grip, but not completely... At this distance, they no longer seemed to be pen marks. Some had tiny dots even in the middle of the marks themselves... Some were of different shade. I was curious, but I didn't want that to be the first thing I said.

In time, his face slipped a little closer to mine, speaking to me right over my forehead. "I'm _sorry_... I didn't spend the whole night with you..." I didn't know how to reply. "I couldn't sleep... I went on a walk to tire myself out..." I felt the heat of every word, like he was temping me with a kiss. Again.

"I guess I forgive you."

"Maybe eventually I won't need the walk."

...

"I don't mind it though... Night is the perfect time..."

"The darkness is pretty," I added, more about him than outside this room. "But I'm not _allowed_ outside by then. Alone."

"You should come with me, then."

"Heh, well see, that's not considered 'with someone' because you are... essentially... what my parents are protecting me from."

"...Do youthink you need protection from me?" My eyes were still focused on the red marks.

"You make it seem like I do, but... You've had every opportunity to be something they think you are. ...But you aren't. Sometimes scary things protect you."

"...I hadn't thought of it that way," he said, no longer to my forehead.

The morning stayed like that a while before I thought to text Giry, and tell her everything was fine, even if 'fine' was a serious understatement. He brought the phone to me so I could do it right between us, while he watched ever word created.

My parents were both at work today, I didn't need to hurry home, but a lot of self-consciousness about being in my crinkled dress and my stomach growling, and... this sense that so much needed to be fixed had me getting ready. He knew he had plucked me out of my world, yet again, and as I fixed myself up with my mirror, he was standing near, watching.

He looked at me like I was a present to him, no realization that he meant the same to me, I just hadn't had those years to make a life capable of dealing with this feeling. Every time I turned my back to him, I felt like I was being approached, but maybe it was just the energy he emitted, the kind I felt in myself and didn't know what to do with.

"I'd stay longer, but I-I... I must look awful," I told him, clutching the doorknob.

"I completely disagree."

"Of course you do." I opened the door and his shadow came right after, following across the hall and up the stairs.

The found the sun hitting the front of the theater, snow completely melted, when I reached the porch. He was hesitant to come out from the dark, remaining to the side by the strip of light hitting the lobby floor. It disappointed me a little seeing the darkness trying to claim him again.

He pulled the black book out of nowhere and handed it to me, his hand remaining under the spine even as I held it.

_"Thank you_..." The way he said it, it was like I had saved his life.

"You don't need to thank me," I answered.

"I don't need to do anything, do I."

"Oh, no... It's either_ both of us_ are allowed to thank each other or neither." I brought the book to my chest and he let go like all along his fingers were on the verge of slipping. He was so passive about it, it didn't seem like it was the same... phantom...

"...Alright..."

"...I appreciate where you took me last night. And everything," I tried.

"Of course."

With me on the verge of leaving, he seemed to be departing in to himself as he had done on Christmas Eve. I may have been doing the same myself. He was still right in front of me, but I knew he wouldn't be five minutes later. Nor the rest of today. Maybe not even tomorrow.

"Send me something. I'll keep checking for it, okay?"

As I went further away from him, he leaned closer to the door, and his hand rose under his chin, almost like he were timid, or thinking, with a faint smile on his face.

The house was a weird place to be, after that. I was so thankful at a time like this that I had the place to myself - no hiding my smile, the kind someone would ask about because it's apparently "not like me"... No explaining to do - no more lying. _At least for now_.

I was going to jump in the shower immediately when I remembered how often we had come in contact... I didn't wanna wash that off... Odd way of looking at it... I'd come back 10x worse than the Ariel I'd described a month or so ago. A grin wider than healthy was spread across my face when the roses came tumbling down past my open closet door, beginning to dry. I caught a petal and held it under my nose, and as I knelt, a rose on top the pile, all with marks of missing thorns, came under my eye. I could imagine all of them, from every rose, like a thousand little shark teeth. Maybe some day I would have an answer for how much it hurt to do this work.

His silences were starting to say much more than his words, though.

I could feel the book tucked under my arms and I didn't think I could wait. I backed up right into the bed and flipped through the pages, finding that only a few contained writing, some with less than others, as if he was trying to organize his thoughts rather than be chronological. He had given me no indication of what I should expect, but that kind of excited me.

Legible black writing, a very thin ball-point pen, I thought.

* * *

Page One

**First words are never what they should be,**

**Neither are second, or third,**

**Or for me, any. **

**I'm not trying to be poetic. We both know I could never do that.**

**I make you angry so often. **

**But never as much as I have myself. **

**I forgot to be sorry, I guess. **

**

* * *

I want to be everything instead of one person.**

**I could give anything, then.**

**

* * *

**

She cares when I'm freezing.

* * *

Page Two

**She likes the phrase "becomes a story", **

**As if it marks transition. **

**You are one or the other. **

**You have always been my Christine,**

**But I'm glad you haven't always known.**

**Witnessing that awareness has been the most amazing part of my life.**

**Second, only, to discovering myself.**

**

* * *

She's trying to make things fit. **

**I prefer to watch her. I know she's smart enough to learn new things, quietly.**

**Sometimes I'm unsure where she is.**

**She can't integrate me. She has to pick one or the other.**

**

* * *

I give her the opportunity to manage a part of her world**

**That was always there without me,**

**Fighting for the surface,**

**Stalling just below it,**

**Afraid to find someone will be there to push it back down.**

**You can't drown in something like this.**

**It's your truth. **

**It'll hurt eventually.**

**I'm going to bring you utmost happiness,**

**Just like you will me.**

**

* * *

I know delusions very well. **

**They last minutes, maybe hours.**

**Never years.**

**I'm happy to stay in this one,**

**If I'm proven wrong. **

**

* * *

**Page Three

**Tangibility is not a trait of delusions.**

**She doesn't like to be watched,**

**I've turned away from her but her breath is right against my ear.**

**I can see her fingerprints on the cover,**

**She changes the room.**

**She finds darkness intriguing, but it can't hold off light.**

**She will destroy what has always plagued me.**

**Delusions can't destroy themselves.**

**.  
**

**You will wake up and I will have imagined that already for the thousandth time.**

**I still hope it happens again.**

**Don't forget I need your light.**

**

* * *

**At the end of these writings, I slapped the book shut, rather than re-reading a word. It was tucked under my pillow, behind Charles.

My reaction was best described indescribable.

In ways, I felt I had bought a ouija board, in this thing. He was my ghost, who knocked my books off the shelves, blew out my candles, and made my curtains dance... Communication I had to interpret without much luck. I found the idea of being haunted so exciting though, I needed more. Except now, that empty room made me a little more self-conscious.

At two, after finally showering, I remembered my phone was somewhere in the bag I'd left on the counter. If he'd left me a message, I wanted it. To see if I could somehow... find the hidden meaning in it, using the book as a decoder.

Instead, I had a message from Meg. Already, I knew I was falling from the height I had been brought, every inch up inverting right into my stomach. Fights with Meg scared me, truthfully, and I really didn't want to look at it, knowing it couldn't have been positive, and here I was completely intoxicated on Erik comments. It'd be on my mind even if I didn't know what it said, though. She told me-

...To text her when I was home.

I'd pissed her off and she wanted to make sure I was okay. I had to come to the living room and stare in space at the end of the couch, over something like that. I almost rathered she was too frustrated to want to talk to me, instead of this. Then being this shameless wouldn't seem so unfair.

_I'm home. Sorry I didn't respond sooner._

I never received an answer that day or the following.

I didn't feel like calling Giry, either. Even though I owed her for all her favors... Not yet... What would talking to anyone do at this point? I was learning things I didn't want to share.

So many weird things. Giry's number in his phone, the roses, 'delusions', this heightened sense of infatuation... going both ways. Our relationship was a being of its own - personal - no longer the latest news, and advice for that dwindled as it grew weirder. I may have been the only one who could handle it.

My weekend was a bit reclusive. I was replaying our night in my head over and over again, trying to remember all details, how things had been said, when and how he had touched me... It was a lot of information to not only recall but connect to our book. I felt like there was a gravity to things now that I needed to understand before I saw him next, but it was out of reach, and suddenly I remembered I had homework, and needless to say... Monday started with me feeling in complete disarray, with the Phantom, with my friendships, with schoolwork, even though I'd done it somehow.

I didn't always see Mariam in the mornings, but this time I was very conscious of it, and I could have sworn I saw her pass by the door while sitting in my chair in the math room, my notebook closed. I was reminded here of our first discussion about him - her being grossed out by the length of his hair, how she snatched my letter and read it, like it was all such a joke. Neither of us were expecting anything would come of it. They were just a few stupid notes.

I didn't find her during break. I came to our spot at lunch alone. She was either mad at me still, or sick... I couldn't make up my mind if I had an appetite or not, so I just took my book out and read, bag sitting next to me.

After some time, there was a break in light from the windows down the hall and a soft thud against the lockers. That familiar magenta backpack came into my peripheral, but she was sitting somewhat far away from me. She didn't say anything, so neither did I. I couldn't focus on the words in my book, so I set it down and unscrewed my drink, unnecessarily slowly, hoping we'd just magically...simultaneously apologize out of nowhere before I so much as sipped it.

Within all the time it took, nothing happened. I took a drink, set it down, and came to look in her direction after a moment's hesitance. It looked like she was doing homework.

"...Hi," I tried. She paused, but her eyes just settled on the paper over her knees. I realized afterward that I was getting the silent treatment. I couldn't remember the last time it'd come to that between us. Maybe freshman year? 8th grade?

I left her alone for at least five minutes, trying to eat my lunch. Failing. It was like she had come only because she had nowhere else to go, not because she wanted to be there. I turned towards her again and exhaled through my nose, hoping she'd look up. Not at all.

"I didn't mean for that to happen," I said very clearly. She apparently didn't hear. "I'm sorry I didn't stay with you. I'm sorry I invited him."

"Sorry you called me 'Meg' right to my face?"

Awkward. "...Yeah. That too." She suggested it, but that seemed to be the end of her reaction to my apology. "If I could've predicted what he did, I wouldn't have invited him. I would've told him to wait for another night. I'd've done that even then, if you'd said I should..."

She was busy scribbling another sentence before she answered. "... Then why didn't you?"

"...You told me to leave."

"_Well_, you listened to me." She sort of smirked at her work for a second.

"...Was I supposed to stand there and argue with you in front of everyone?"

"Maybe not. But you left."

"Well I felt bad. And he was waiting for me." The answer was no good. "Would it be okay for me to ask how it went for you?" She stopped again.

"It was great." She flipped through her folder before she continued. "I spent a lot of time with Paulina, a lot of time with Jeffrey... He wanted to meet you... Obviously couldn't..."

"Well.. we can meet after school, if you want... I just have to work it around my math tutoring..." I meant it, but we both seemed to feel some distance in it. She went back to work and I stared off down the hall, defeated by all of this awkwardness, and I found myself stewing in a desire to redeem him, like if only she knew how well he treated me while I was out of their picture... It'd change this resentment.

...

"He took me to dinner. ...That's it." I saw her eyes widen and then narrow as she wrote. "We talked a little... He gave me back that book I got him..."

"And you stayed the night with him," she finished.

When I heard her say this, it felt like this entire conversation had been a tightrope, and I had just fallen. My mind sputtered with every possible direction I could take us then. Was it Giry who told her, and _why_, when it was so clearly secret? I hadn't even seen her the past couple days and suddenly I worried I had lost her too.

"Did she tell you?" I asked, like there was an alternative, stupid from shock. Surprisingly, she rolled her eyes.

"No," she answered, looking me directly in the eye. "I called your house because you weren't picking up on your cell. It was late and I wanted to make sure you came back," she said a little matter-of-factly.

My eyes dropped to the floor.

"And I think it's really... _sad_... that... you and Paulina think I shouldn't have to know anything. That you just go talk to her and she's not even the friend that really cares what happens to you."

"That's not true. Don't assume how Paulina feels about anything. She's been a good friend to me."

"Okay. Forget what I just said then, how's this: I'm your fucking _best friend," _she asserted. I felt the challenging tone and looked around, hoping no one had heard.

"I didn't want to tell you because it's not what you think."

"And what is it that I'm apparently thinking right now?"

.

.

"That you... slept with him?"

.

.

"I know you don't have the guts to do that. I know you, _Lily._ That's not even the point. You put yourself... in such... I-I don't need to _explain_ this."

"I wasn't in danger." She rose her hand, slowly and impatiently. "He had the perfect opportunity."

"Of course he did. Why do you think I'm mad?"

"You don't need to be mad. I made that choice using my own damn judgment."

This stare I was getting from her was starting to get to me. It didn't look like a concerned stare; it was full of disdain.

"...What has he said to you to make you so defensive about this? You know he's crazy. Right? Didn't we agree on this a couple weeks ago? He's crazy? He stalks you? And now you just follow him everywhere and go to Paulina for advice? Seriously?-"

"-You know what, Mariam? You don't know him at all," I asserted, my voice grown in volume. At this point, I didn't give a shit who heard me. "I can't tell you what he's said to make me 'defensive'," I did air quotes, "because he's said a little too much... And you weren't there, and when someone's not there, they don't have the right to tell people how they should feel about anyone else."

"Oh I'm sorry, I thought we shared these kind of things. I thought involving you with you-know-who would give you some type of incentive to talk about 'The Phantom'! But you don't!" I noted how derisively she mentioned him...

A person walked by just then and noticed us. I sunk into myself a little, scratching the handle of my lunch bag repeatedly, but it only provided a moment of cooling off.

"...No, because you don't take any of it seriously_ and you say things that are rude..._"

"Not on purpose."

"Then I guess 'thoughtless' is a better word."

"Okay."

"'Okay', then you admit to being thoughtless."

"Shit, Lily, would thinking about it make there anything better to say about him?" I was ready to snap my handle in two, impossible as it was.

"You don't know him."

"Neither of us should, to be honest.-"

"-I'm not going to stop seeing him! I admitted it was my fault what happened, but it's not my fault that I have to divide my time-"

"You think this is about me being _**jealous**_?" She laughed to herself, as if only to make me all the more uncomfortable. That wasn't what I was trying to say... "No wonder we're fighting about this. The whole time you thought I was just being a bitch, instead of having reasons to believe you're dating a _weirdo_."

She broke my last straw with that. I shoved everything into my bag and slowly stood up, knowing if I didn't collect myself, I might say something so pointlessly mean to her, that I couldn't just take back later. She was watching the floor between us when I turned towards her, still scratching, at my own hands... I almost felt Erik's pricks, all for me, on my own fingertips.

"You put all this emphasis on _him... _Well _I'm_ not as normal as you think I am. If you can't deal with 'weirdos', then maybe I was the wrong choice for you."

.

.

I walked away thinking I hadn't seen a stunned look like that on her face before. I don't know if she even believed me. I even felt uncomfortable saying what I did.

This was the first day I sensed this story of mine was going somewhere dark, and not the kind I admired in that dream.


	38. Chapter 38 Whatever Be Ruined

**Author's Note**  
Yeah, I'm trying to get back into the motion, even though my schedule is still just as busy. I'm impressed with the quality of this chapter given the circumstances, truthfully. It's unpredictable when ch39 will be out, but I've already made a dent in it. I need to deal with some bigger things in the next couple weeks, though, so I won't be pushing myself to finish it as quickly as I did with this one. Anyway, enjoy it, and please leave me a review if you can! I really really appreciate some kind words, they keep me motivated, and I'll reply. Ask questions if you like. Anything! Thanks a lot. -LB

* * *

**HE'S () THERE  
Chapter 38 - Whatever Be Ruined**

I had to snap myself out of this empty gaze that had lasted the past three periods before walking into Mr. Darrelle's room. We had to do catch-up because of my inability to focus before the dance, and I had no excuse now to look distant; he was already growing impatient with me.

I don't know how much progress we made, even grinning and bearing it. His smile at the end of our meeting seemed strange to me. It was like he could see into me; like he saw something wrong, beyond the math, which he obviously couldn't ask about, and had he, I'd lie.

What Mariam said about Erik that day, as she had said many times before... it stuck onto me this time. We seemed to be connected now, me and "the note-sender"... We both propelled this relationship. Our thoughts were not quite so different. And to feel so connected to this... entity... that Mariam was so against... brought me to feel she was against me as well, in ways she didn't even realize. It didn't need to be said, "Lily, there is something wrong with you," "Lily, you're a 'weirdo'," but it almost made it worse... That she could not even recognize that. That perhaps she was overlooking it, unable to conceive that a friend of hers she had become so close to was less than what she wanted her to be.

Being deemed this way by her ruined the last thing I had that made me feel normal. Okay, so I never fit well with my peers, so I was made fun of, especially when little bits of me came out that were too detached from reality... But I had a best friend, who got me. There was someone else.

Right then, that someone else was the Phantom, though, and with that change in partnership, I took on more of him. I started to feel dark, like I would really have to disappoint others; scare them; appear so suspicious to stop drowning.

Coming down the hill, the wind hit hard. Funny, how it picked such a day, when it already felt I was going against every force. She made me angry. Like if I had to feel this way, I may as well feel it thoroughly. Just stop even trying to make things fit anymore.

I wanted to see Erik tonight, after that sun went down, without having to make something up about seeing anyone. I wanted that walk in the dark. I needed to be tired out, like him, to sleep.

For one reason or another, it was instinct for me to clean when I was frustrated. It was a form of control, really. Sure, Mariam and I were angry with each other and probably wouldn't be speaking for a while, but at least the carpet was fit for an Orek commercial and my bookshelf in the closet was arranged alphabetically. Right?

I had to get that awful ring of soap scum off of my bathtub, too, that had been staring me in the face for months. There was an indescribable sense of joy that came from wielding the razor blade and picking the grimiest spot... and watching the long white ribbons drop to the bottom.

I had made a mistake of being noticed during all of this, though. It seemed to be a smart idea starting with the kitchen before anybody was home and finishing upstairs after, discreetly, with doors closed, but they noticed. They noticed me do too much.

Which was why I had planned to meet Erik at midnight. I never told him why and he never asked. It was a relief in itself just knowing somebody I didn't have to explain my life to before an escape was provided.

Not a thing against Giry, by the way. I still hadn't heard from her at all. I worried I had somehow wronged her by throwing her advice over my shoulder. I worried what Mariam might have said to her. Maybe I was being paranoid, but it felt appropriate at the time. Just as the Phantom and I had had our problems and I'd sit in this tub, drawing pictures of us running through flowers, that was now flipped back to everyone else, and, in fact... he was the only thing right then that I felt sure about. I knew he had Giry's number in his phone, but we'd get to that eventually. It was too small to worry about.

.

.

When I was done with the tub, I got a text from him, reminding me it'd be cold outside, if I really wanted to see him later. _**"Layer up, okay."**_

Heh.

I sat on the rug with my phone afterward. I was tired, even sweaty. The heat was too high and I'd been distracting myself with activity. I didn't realize it was 7:30.

The pack of blades were sitting on the counter, and I saw them with him in my head, and a thought. A thought about the cold - how I felt it the last time we argued and it kept me going, like I wanted to have that to know it was real. Unfortunately I was called to dinner before I touched that box, but I could see myself in the mirror, thinking quite abnormally, before rushing down.

The parents could see I was detached from their reality. I usually liked to sit next to them at the table, not always listening to their conversation but feeling that I belonged there after a lot of time watching the floor while I was at school and hiding in my bedroom when I got back. It seemed natural this time to drop to a bar stool and eat quickly, avoiding much talk to distract me from the state of mind I entered several minutes before. Of course, they tried to ask me why I'd been cleaning, and Mom wanted to know how math was going. I really just felt like the house was getting dirty, and math was going fine. I had upped my grade on several assignments and almost had a D. Before five minutes were up, my plate was rinsed and I was already up the stairs, closing the bedroom door and taking out my notebook.

It occurred to me that a thing should never be misunderstood, if you can help it. It should never be labeled unless it has been studied. And before I could defend Erik against Mariam, I had to defend him against myself, starting with my inability to confront or accept the fact that he was self-injurious, or was. If I wanted to be connected with him, I had to understand him more entirely.

First, I asked myself, in writing, why I was afraid of the idea.  
- It's painful.  
- Pain is hard enough to deal with on accident. If you want to bring it on, does that mean you need a therapist?  
- It seems to me one would get quite queasy giving themselves cuts.  
- All you have afterward is a cut, and later a scar. A scar that could last years. What if someone noticed this? What if you had to explain that you had had problems and dealt with them in such a way?

I didn't remember the quote, it was somewhere in my things... The world is losing its pigment... its colored again by the color, when you do this...

I was on the bathroom floor when I reached for the blade box. I just took out a new one to look at it and nothing else. I could see my wide blue eye in the metal, and the peach of my skin, colored by blood. World already colored. Seeing the two things together made it seem such a simple concept, almost - you slide the thin edge across a sheet of skin and get to see the red. Pointing a corner of the razor into a part of my arm that appeared safest... did nothing, though. Courage to execute this simple concept was imaginary when you remembered that sheet of skin felt it.

I was always the wuss, back in Colorado as a kid and here as well. I always got teary-eyed when I fell over on my bike, even nowadays out of sheer embarrassment, and it was Mariam that never gave a care in the world when we came home from a rowdy day of drama club with bruises all over our legs. If there was a God, he must've been looking down on me, asking "what the fuck are you doing?" in a booming baritone voice.

The blade was too much. It was easiest but hardest at once. But I was determined to complete my experiment, the one at the back of my mind during the writing and the examining. After digging through my jewelry drawer, I found a safety pin. Luckily, a tiny one. It seemed easier just to scratch my arm with it. It wasn't so bad. I repeated the motion enough for some skin to flake up from the path of the point. It only stung a little. At first. It hurt more as I persisted, and the area grew pink. Although I forced myself to keep that pin going back and forth for considerable time, I eventually had to take a break when the queasiness set in of giving myself that pain.

I could stop whenever I wanted to. I didn't need to do this. But I'd already made the dare. One swipe at a time.

It wasn't working.

When I heard steps along the hall, I stopped and just stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend I felt no pain at all. In a second, I would be running the pin across hard, to get it over with, and this seemed like the best way to prepare.

Eyes slammed shut, I did it, and the little slit momentarily throbbed, and I blew on it thinking it'd help. Not at fucking all. Ughhh.

It was already very pink, especially at one end. I did it fast again. Nothing. Another break and I tried again. A little sphere of red popped out of the line. I pinched my arm a little, hoping a little more would come out and make this incident worth it, and another drop of blood bubbled up. I told myself this was just enough and stopped, putting the pin out of sight, on the counter top above me.

I asked myself... How I could only do what I just had, but I was forced to see so much blood on his hand that one time? Plaguing my thoughts, over and over again - How could he do that? I knew what it was like to be unhappy. But not to the point where your break; your least amount of pain; comes when you are hurting yourself.

My hand rose to my forehead and I let my arm dangle. It was still stinging.

It'd heal in a few days, but during I would be conscious of what I had done. I'd remember feeling sick. It would be my statement to myself that I had let my honest feelings come to the surface, and slightly alter my reality, no matter what anyone said about what I had done. Not matter who disapproved.

I still didn't understand this approach to reconnecting to a world losing its colors, but I knew at one point they were missing in mine, and the reasoning came that he and I were trying to do this in different ways. Each would hurt, no matter what, but we liked that. We could tell it was real, and ours, for _once._ For me, knowing fully the sacrifices it took to be nearer to this person leading me out into the cold, who seemed to just argue with me for two months straight... I would trade _nothing_ for that. Perhaps I was emotionally cutting. Anonymity, uncertainty - they were no good for me, maybe, but deep down I wanted them. I could choose them, whether anyone thought it right or not. They were my break, even though I wasn't depressed.

He had other methods to accomplish this same thing.

If that was what it took to live in a world of vivid color, why not?

At 11:58, I had a serious adrenaline rush, just thinking about him while putting on my coats in front of the closet. I shuffled quietly for my things, but it seemed audible in my parents' room, even clicking off my bedside lamp. I knew he was already there. I could picture him standing. An eternity was in those two minutes between me and the door.

I had to open and close it so slowly, he probably didn't know what I was _doing,_ if he was watching me, but letting go of the nob was completion of freedom from then on. I had to do no more than cross the street to that black place in the neighbor's yard. I was calmest disappearing there than I had been all day, and interlocking my hands with those of this face, that had picked me so many fine roses. He tried to back me up under the streetlights but I was quick to move. "I don't want anyone to see us here, let's go-" I tried to take him with me but he was resistant a moment. "Just take me for a walk. Take me wherever you go."

He listened, but he still didn't say anything; just kept at his pace, letting me hold on to his arm and watch the trees pass us. I didn't care where we were going, just that we were, and that I didn't have to say anything. I noticed he wasn't shivering and I was happy for him.

At a particularly low tree branch he looked behind us before ducking, and we were covered up in the shade again. I wondered by now why he was so silent. "You don't want to ask why I wanted to walk in the middle of night?"

"I guess I don't find it strange..."

"Is there anything I could do that you would find strange?"

"... I think anyone acts strangely when they're going against their own character. I don't believe you've done that since I've met you."

"Then by your definition you're not strange either. Right?"

"...My definition leaves a lot of freedom."

"Heghh. Yes. ...Do you think 'strange' and 'weird' are the same thing?"

"No."

We were walking at a very slow pace by then. Almost too slow. I still wanted to be a lot further away. "Then what's the difference?"

"Why from me?"

"I don't know. You don't have to answer..." Except I _really_ wanted him to...

He stopped all the way and looked to his right again. "Strange is more of a description to me, temporary, and weird is more a state. The state of someone... being themselves and not being typical. And usually that's something that makes others uncomfortable."

"Heh. You make it sound so objective. Like if you use that word it's just the facts. That it doesn't hurt anybody."

"It shouldn't," he muttered, and began following that path we had just come. I stuck to his side again and closed my fingers around his arm.

"I don't see why it shouldn't - do you want to make people uncomfortable?"

"We all make someone uncomfortable being ourselves. We all make someone admire us for it, too, if you haven't noticed... It's all really a matter of choosing who you want to admire you, and who should be close to you. Which is why I endorse weird and not strange."

"You think I'm weird?"

"I do."

"That makes two."

"Probably three. Hopefully everyone you know. If they didn't see it as an insult... It's why you're not forgettable."

I think he had just made me smile by insulting me. Maybe because we were now called the same thing or maybe it was just how simple he made being an outcast sound.

"Who said you were weird? And I assume differently."

"No one." That must've confused him. "I did. Nevermind. ...Why are we going back towards my house?"

"Because I'm parked back there."

He must've noticed I looked thrilled because I caught him smile before he looked away. _Anything to leave._

When that car appeared and he opened the passenger door, I just about lost it. "Thank you so _much..._" I uttered. I realized afterward I had drawn in his hands and held on to him like he'd been missing for years. "I don't know what I would've done if I couldn't see you tonight." His hand on my back was weak. When I lowered myself to the seat he said "you're starting to think like me" before he closed the door.

"We'll go somewhere you'll like."

.

I believed him. Why the hell not? As long as I had never been Lily there.

He drove with a faint smile but hardly spoke. I had a feeling we weren't going far because he never got on the freeway, only cruised almost aimlessly through side roads, and down a narrow road inside the  
forest. It seemed so isolated out here. I liked it that way.

All the way through, we broke out into a lit street - the kind that would've been busy during the day, but dead here tonight. As we came down, I peered out Erik's window and could see the river beyond the railing. I knew it all seemed familiar.

He turned in and slowed along the curb, then turned off the car and leaned back, keys tightening in his hand. He seemed to be waiting for an observation.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He grinned and slowly opened his door. There was the sound of the sky, but nothing else. Even he was quiet coming to stance. I stepped out and came for the railing, the wind against my face, but it was softer now. It felt like it should. He stepped right behind me, carefully laying his hand over mine on our furthest side.

"I was scared last time we were here," he said over my shoulder.

"_You were scared?_ I couldn't even look you in the eye..."

"I was glad you didn't... I felt exposed enough letting you see any part of me. It was a lot easier being writing on paper to you."

"Hmph! I wouldn't have been able to _stand_ that."

...

"I called you an asshole or something, didn't I?"

"A douchebag, actually." O-oh.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I didn't mean everything I said either."

We had some sort of companionable silence after that. I was okay forgetting what had actually happened here months ago... I don't think I had said anything meaningful to him in those times.

He let me walk beside the railing a ways and survey the city behind us a while before I dropped to a bench and just sat there, thinking, maybe going a little ways inside myself even though he was right next to me. I just wanted him _there._ I wanted to be in supportive company. Just like last time. But I didn't think we would be coming back here and it would be like this.

He was holding one hand with the other, posture straight, watching something, when I took a deep breath.

"Meg and I aren't talking anymore." He looked in my direction. "At least not now." I wrapped the collar of my coat a little tighter around my neck and kept my face down-turned.

"I'm sorry." It was okay if he wasn't, in actuality. What reason would he have to be?

"She's being really non-supportive of who I am and I'm not in a position to know how to deal with it, so... I thought it would be best to just... stay away for a while." He didn't seem to have anything to say now that I had put it out there. I figured I could make things clearer about why we were here. "I feel kind of lonely. I don't feel connected to anybody. But you."

His eyes switched from the distance to his side, where I waited for a response.

"You're starting to think like me," he repeated from earlier.

"... I guess so." I tried to lean close enough for him to look at me instead of his lap. "Was this a bad time?" Finally, he did.

"It's not a bad time if you needed me." It almost sounded insistent. The answer didn't feel good enough to me, though.

"We don't have to talk about... bad things... happening to me. I-I'm sorry,"

"I'd love to help you... If I knew how..."

"You can't... I don't expect it of you, either. I'm just... stuck. And I'm cold..." I tried to smile. "I listened to you - I have two sweaters and a hoodie under this, but it's no good..." I felt so awkward just having him sit there while I complained about everything under the sun, but when I rose my hand to brush the strayed hair out of my face, he pulled me completely into him. "I-igh..." I squinted my eyes and tensed, knees up, my body looking much like I were hiding inside a cupboard. "That helps. Actually." I couldn't see a reaction from here, but I hoped he'd smiled. "What did I expect, really?" I continued, to keep myself from getting awkward. "By telling people that this person... and I don't know who it is..." I laughed under my breath. "Is following me and doting on me and trying to help me understand... what I'm missing... and I'm willing to look past what a terrible reputation he has, just to find that out."

My cheek was rising every time he breathed. I wanted him to say something, but it seemed like I was just talking to myself.

"I should be allowed to do whatever I want... don't you think?"

I waited this time for a response. It didn't come right away, but finally...

"I think..." ... "You should just come with me... and forget about everyone else..."

"Hmph! ... Yeah. Very doable," I played off of him. He must've really been out of advice. Resorting to sarcasm... That was the only way he could say it that set well with me, anyway... so I reacted accordingly.

I grew uncomfortable in cupboard-hiding position eventually, so I eased up and turned towards the sky. I wanted to make sure he knew his arms around me were appreciated, so I held to his left, then used it as a little support to lean back. That was when he shirked it away. "Sorry... Don't hold too tightly."

"I'm sorry," was my answer, confused.

"I fell on it."

"Oh... How did that happen?"

"I wasn't being careful, like you told me to be."

Al...right... I didn't believe that, truthfully. "Do you want me to stay away from that arm?..."

When I leaned forward to ask him face to face, I realized he looked really drained. There wasn't the same sharpness to his stare, and come to think of it, I don't think I'd seen it at all while we were here.

"...You look really tired. I thought this was early for you."

He sort of grinned but not out of genuine humor. "I haven't slept in the last 36 hours." I suddenly felt thrown off. Why hadn't he mentioned this? Why was he driving? Why was he even here? Listening to me rant, no less. "I couldn't tell until I stopped moving."

"Erik..." I tried to reflect that same grin, but it didn't feel appropriate. "Why did you come see me if you were so _tired?_"

"I don't want to go back there." That didn't make a whole lot of sense. "It's not where you think."

His ambiguity made it clear to me he didn't even want to go over it, but it changed my attitude from then on out. I convinced him to turn to his side and lay back on the bench with me, side by side, turned towards each other, so I could see him. He almost looked guilty that a thing like his body needed shutting down, but I took his hand and said the strangest things... Like if he wanted to, he could just fall asleep right there and I'd be here for him just like he was for me the other night... As if... I didn't _need_ to go home. That I didn't have parents that might've found it odd if I was just gone the next morning...

Although... They left before I did, and they knew my bedroom door was locked while I slept... Maybe I knew that and would actually take a chance if Erik trusted me. I didn't think he would, though. It just seemed right to offer it up.

He still looked like a perfect black and white doll... Made me not want to even touch him further; wreck anything about that; startle him while he was drifting away.

"I'm the only one that sees this," I said to myself. "She doesn't like you," I told the motionless 'face'. "I know you accept this, but it's getting hard for me."

I could see his breath rising into the sky and I watched the stars, waiting for his reply, but he had gone quiet.

"She thinks there's a line between you and us, like you're the one that's _wrong,_ but she's just alienated me... I'm not as _right_ as she thinks."

.

.

"I'm done acting like I am."

.

.

"What do I do?"

"... You shouldn't be acting anywhere but on the stage." He had gathered very few words, but they told me best.

"You think I should just... give up. Forget about having this make any sense to her."

"You're just rationalizing for her."

"I tried to empathize. But she's coming down on me so hard when she isn't part of this. I don't think her feelings apply anymore..." Every time I said things like this about her, about her feelings not 'applying', the corresponding guilt was weakening me. Like these feelings were too hard on my friend to be true.

"Then that needs to be made clear," he answered quietly, which pushed at those feelings even more. Made them agreed upon. Two against one... I still didn't know.

"I'm _trying..._ But it's... ruining us. She doesn't know me so well anymore and she doesn't trust me, and it's all because of what you and I have created." My hand rose up his arm, the sensitive one, and was careful not to weigh down too much. _"If I need you, how can I have both?"_

_._

_._

_.  
_

"You can't."

.

_Okay._  
_._

_.  
_

I know he said I couldn't integrate him, but I still thought I could juggle both sides. A choice like that was too big to be acknowledged yet... I was going to pretend he had never answered my question, if he hadn't continued.

_"I had to destroy everything to come for you."_ ...The only one I knew that could use words like "destroy" calmly, while seemingly falling asleep. _"I always wanted to, though..."_

_._

_.  
_

_"Nothing was worth kept standing."_

_._

_.  
_

_"That kind of decision takes complete honesty, but... I think when you are honest you're perfect."_

"I don't know when I'm honest."

_"I think you do."_

_._

_.  
_

_"You have to be sure what you need before you take that step... But if you are... Let whatever be ruined..."_

_._

_.  
_

_" As I've done for you..."_


	39. Chapter 39 Stormcatcher

**AUTHOR'S NOTE  
**I'm honestly nervous about this one. *hides*

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 39 - Storm-catcher

To extract this one night from my life, you could say this was a roleplay; the one promised at the beginning, and the one expected. He sounded so very much like Erik, trying to convince me life above ground was hardly comparable to the sanctuary he had created below it, but I believed he was trying to do something much bigger than what he had first projected. I felt real seeds trying to break into me, real as his shivers.

There was no doubt that since I met him, his dimensions had sprung up from that writing on paper for me. He was the closest thing to Erik that I would ever have. I felt his spirit inside this man, and correspondingly, it made me feel Christine's. Deeply, more than I thought I could, which is not something I ever wanted to admit in full to Giry, or especially Mariam.

I often thought I did not perform well as Christine, even though I turned around when her name was called. But often... I felt her heart was holding me hostage. I was me but I was following her exact path, and he was following Erik's, although it was hard to decide how far in he had gotten, and if it was enough to worry the way I sometimes did. If this was the delusion he was referring to, it seemed as though I shared it, no matter what anyone thought.

But there was truth, of some important amount, in the things he tried to say to me while hidden behind the mask: about spoiling me, about being over my shoulder, about hoping he could remove me from my own life... I could acknowledge that that was scary, and that I would have to confront it eventually, maybe soon, but at the same time... He had come to prove, in "Mysterious Phantom Terms", a secret hope ever since it began: that my Note-Sender really did care about me, as me.

Did that have to be dangerous?

Was this side of him, as Erik, a show covering those feelings?

It was dying in my arms, at least for now. Stranger was resting under my watchful eye, as long as he wanted to, but it didn't last long. He said sleeping would make me all alone out here, and he didn't like that.

A few houses down, his car stopped under the trees and he appeared at my side when I stepped out. I hugged him for a very long time for making such a terrible mood dissolve. When it dwindled, I turned my face inward and touched my lips against the cold barrier between our skin. It was Christine again, I knew it. When breaking away, I couldn't sense his reaction; I had returned to long ago when making eye-contact was just too much. He took in the air, slowly, and said "...I'm sorry it has to be done like that."

"I'm going to figure this out," I assured. "This isn't about to end."

_"Oh, I knew that very well..."_

I half smiled but was a little unsure how to say goodbye, so I turned to my side and thought a moment, eyes on the street.

"I'll give you back that book _tomorrow_."

"...Wonderful." His pronouncing of the words took the last blow to the heart already sinking. That he belonged out there, that I couldn't kiss him; not how he want me to, and that the next step taken would be Lily's, alone.

I felt his hand touch the back of my arm as I turned away. "You're braver than you seem." This hand retracted but I caught it as I backed away, trying to keep contact as long as I could, but he followed me forward. I had to let go, abruptly, and turn my back on him to make him stop. It was that type of temptation that would, in excess, make me sleepless all night. Our walk wasn't long enough, and it never would be like this.

* * *

My alarm did not wake me up for school the next day because I was already on the floor, surrounded in papers, by the time it went off. It instead jolted me out of a very detailed examination of all the contents of my desk and reminded me that in the next ten minutes I needed to begin caring about all the other aspects of my life.

What was I looking for? Nothing. It was not a search. Or perhaps it was, but not for a certain poem or drawing, just for myself. I felt I had been losing her lately, in some unexplainable way. It almost felt like our move to Oregon - losing the house and losing my friends... unsure how to fill the gaps, but knowing I can't just stay in my room all day and avoid the changes.

I had found my diary from seventh grade to only the first half of freshman year. It was a little present sitting on my bed when we came to the house to stay, and not to drop things off. My mom said I could see our move as an adventure, very worthy of documentation.

I had my nose in this at school all day, even lunch, where I was all alone. I didn't know where Meg had gone off to but I assumed to eat lunch with Carrie, or Kira, hell, maybe even Giry, who I was starting to miss like crazy. I texted her to say I hoped everything was alright between us, and then Erik, in hopes he had crashed somewhere safe.

Pretty much the only light of the day; splattered in rain, and very quiet, was his reply that he had, but he was sorry it could not be next to me again. I got it in English, under my desk, and looked out the window. It was such a disgusting grey sky, but if he was out there somewhere, that was where I wanted to be.

If that didn't sound melodramatic, I didn't know what did.

Work was at 4:00. For no reason, my nose had been running like crazy, but I put on my shirt and my smile and we had the slowest day ever. My coworkers were teasing each other to pass the time, but I guess I came off like a real stick-in-the-mud because at some point they just stopped chatting in my direction.

God. I just wanted to _go_.

So many other things needed to be done. I needed to finish going through my desk, and start on all Erik and I's notes, and write something meaningful to him in our book. And of course, unavoidably, homework...

The book might not seem urgent to you, but I just had to hear more of what he was thinking but not saying to me in person. It was more important then than ever to understand his perceptions of this relationship, in detail... I knew there was something in the air that I had to figure out _now_.

* * *

When my shift finally ended I came straight to my locker to find that Giry had received my message and wasn't mad at me, and to call after 9:30.

Of course, I did. The time couldn't come sooner. She could practically tell that I had not had human interaction (of the normal kind) for days. "I thought for sure that you and Mariam were on the same side," I took our conversation to, quickly.

"Same side of-... Oh, no... Mariam was mad, I was just worried, and only after he wanted you to stay overnight-"

"She's _still_ mad."

"What?"

"I thought she would've told you, or something..."

"No... She's been really quiet in math."

"Hh." I had this growing suspicion that she was actually mad at Giry too.

"...Seems like everyone's been quiet lately..." An awkward silence fell over us. "I got your message from that morning... I meant to reply I just had a SHIT-ton of stuff to do for AP Art History."

"Oh! ...That's okay." Nevermind what assumptions I was making.

"It sounds like you had a... wonderful time with him."

"...I _did._" Awkward still. "And I have never seen someone... use an umbrella like that before."

"What? Hahahaha!"

"Let's just say... gates are no hindrance for him."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it."

It seemed to me she was doing something, and taking the time out for me after a long day. Considering how I had been feeling the past two days, or maybe four, I realized I couldn't forget how lucky I was to still have a normal friendship with her, without the fights. I collected my words nervously and took a breath.

"...I'm sorry how I acted when you were worried."

For some reason she was not quick to respond.

"Giry?"

"That's okay," she finally chimed in, hurriedly.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, uh... nh-... I'm just paranoid with guys. ...Any guy, not just guys with masks!..." I smiled. Another pause ensued. "Ugh... I've just had some experiences, and so have my friends, and when a guy's horny, he'll deal with it in the most ridiculous ways and it put me in the defense mode when he was acting like all you were going to do was go out to dinner, and then last minute it's to stay the night."

"I wasn't expecting him to ask me either. I can really see how it looked."

"Right. I could tell that it threw you off."

"He wasn't making any advances on me though."

"I just remember you used to be really unsure about being around him since you couldn't make out what type of roleplay it was, but... I mean, I know you're not stupid." She paused, with faint sounds on the other end of papers shuffling. "At the time I just wasn't sure _what_ to say and I figured if anythingweird was going on, I could get you to admit it. Because if he _was_ pressuring you, I would've seriously gone in there and been like... 'chill. _Christine _needs to go home now.'" I laughed but secretly I wasn't sure if we were on the same page anymore.

"... He treats me very well," was all I thought fit to add.

"...I'm glad he does."

"...and I _was_ nervous, even considering. In the end nothing happened. I didn't want it to and he... he was just fine. That's been proof to me that he's a lot more trustworthy than he's given credit. But... Meg..." I realized around her I was getting back into the habit of calling her that.

"She _still_ doesn't trust him in the _slightest,_" she finished for me.

"No! It's like she didn't even care that nothing happened - just the part where I put him in a spot where he could be both a good person and a bad. ...Does she talk to you about this?"

Her answer took a moment. "Well... Yes... sometimes. But I think she's aware that it could be... leaked?"

"... I guess 'what's the difference?'... She makes it clear to my face all the same."

"I-I think when she says things to your face she's too caught up in the moment to have thought out the right response. You know, Mariam can have kind of a short fuse sometimes... I've noticed."

"Well, I... I don't want to put up with it, though. It seriously makes me angry, like to the point where my brain stops functioning. And then other times I'm guilty, because my best friend is upset with me and that's not how it should be."

"I know that she might take it out on you, but I think she's just mad at the Phantom... a-and not you."

"I know. That's what's scary about it."

"That she's... mad at the Phan-"

"She doesn't see us as any kind of unit at all. She really thinks he's the entire problem and she can just attack him whenever she feels like it as if I'm not going to be defensive."

"I can't speak for her now and I don't want her to feel like she can't trust me, but in the past my impression has been that she thinks you're underestimating her intelligence and you're plenty aware that what she says about Erik is true, you just don't want to give up the roleplay." I inhaled to speak but she beat me to it. "...You're probably not going to like this suggestion..."

"...What is it?"

"Well..." She sighed first, which just made me more curious and even nervous about it. "You've been at this roleplay for... what? Since Halloween?"

"A little beforehand."

"So... it's been a while. And when it started off it wasn't a big deal. Mariam thought it was weird, but..."

"We both thought it was interesting back then."

"Yeah, and it's not like it was complicated. The Phantom... you know, he was just that creepy guy, and we were all going along with it. But... things are different now. You don't just get 'mysterious' notes from him anymore, or emails... You go out with him. You stay the night with him, and that's a lot bigger. That's a bigger jump to make when he's still a stranger."

I knew this - it was the exact logic I would argue, and yet when the words reached me, I felt no response inside.

"He _knows _you," she continued, "and I know you, and I know you're the one doing this. You're _Christine_, but he's just... he's not giving you anything. So from that angle I can see why Mariam would be feeling like it's too much. It doesn't matter if you reassure her because... He's just not being fair. Eventually you have to know who he is."

_Why?_ Was my very first reactionary thought.

"It's not like you'll just keep roleplaying until you're both sick of it and then he'll just disappear forever. He's a real person too; he obviously lives around here. He wants to get to know you... I know it sort of ruins part of him being _The Phantom_... But it's for safety and it's just something to fall back on."

"...I don't think it would help," I said after a long pause.

"What?" Giry seemed a little confused. I didn't blame her.

"Well we always thought it would be... essentially... figuring out the truth if we could unmask him, or find out his name. But I don't have a lot of faith in that anymore... I just don't think meeting him in person isn't going to make him easier to understand..."

"You mean his... his personality..." She stopped. "Well I was going to say... If we did know who he was, he couldn't use being anonymous to do... things he shouldn't. That's all. I mean, if he's complicated enough to make the roleplay interesting either way, you might as well find out who he is."

I ran out of words, momentarily. I thought I had the confidence to piece something ambiguous together but my blank continued.

"Do you need to use that?" My dad suddenly appeared in the door frame.

"Huh?" I replied, dumbly.

"The computer?" He reiterated.

"Oh," ... "Uh, Giry! My dad wants me out of the study. I'll have to call you back."

We said our goodbyes and I hung up the phone on the way out. Maybe it was just my conscience, but I felt a shared confusion with my dad about why I had hung up on her just to leave the room, cellphone in my hands all the way down the hall and stairs, and beside me as I put a mint tea bag into a cup of hot water.

Never did call her back.

* * *

It was spectacular deja vu to find him across the street again, waiting for me, as always, to do anything for me. And this time he was well rested. A little too well rested - he was trying to confuse me while we were walking through a batch of trees. When his back was turned it was nearly impossible to make him out in the dark and then suddenly I would see a strip of dark grey and almost run right into him. I think he was trying to make me run into him, because when it worked, I got grabbed.

Nevermind that I had no idea where we were. He had parked the car we had taken, a black one, which really threw me off, at a curb in downtown Portland and we were approaching the back of a building. His hand reached the handle of a door but had some sort of struggle with it before retrieving something from his pocket, and I became very suspicious when it finally opened and he held my hand, only to pull me in and whisper _"hurry." _He locked it right behind us as we entered this room, this room I _knew_ we were not supposed to be in, and suddenly I was tugged through it and out another door, speed walking along a hallway, not very well lit.

_"You weren't supposed to do that, were you?" _I harshly whispered. It got very frustrating that he didn't always react when I asked him questions, unless you count making a sharp turn and heading up a flight of stairs.

We were at center of two red halls when I realized immediately we were in a goddamn hotel. I was confused but this inability to predict our experiences together was one reason why I loved to be with him. He still had my hand, so when he started down a hall, I went with him. "Are you even going to answer me?" His pace slowed so he could look at me, thoroughly, for his response.

_"No_, I wasn't supposed to do that. Should we go back?" My brow fell.

"No, but for future reference, there is _probably_ a front door."

"Yes, and probably a lovely group of staff keeping us from going where I would like us to." He smiled and lead me into an elevator. He may have succeeded in winning me over at the moment, but I wouldn't soon forget he had picked a lock. Those are never one-time things.

"You said it would be a good story to tell to be stuck in an elevator with me," he spoke, just as the heavy doors had closed in front of us. The floor began to move and I darted my eyes around.

"I did..." I trailed. His fingers were hovering over the buttons.

"Would you really like for that to happen?" He asked head-on, almost past my eyes.

"A-are you serious?"

"Only if you are."

"I-I'm not."

He made it seem like he had discovered just the one to trap us here when the floor opened up to us and I blew a heavy sigh of relief. The hand over the panel retracted and he beckoned me to come in front of him. I did so, already feeling a hard pumping in my chest.

"You think it's funny to send my heart on a rollercoaster,"

"Only a little."

We matched the silence of the hall, being that it was past midnight (and I didn't want to disturb anyone who _wasn't_ up their _their_ phantom doing questionable things,) but he leaned just a little to my side. "I can send it anywhere... though..."

"W-what do you intend on us doing here?"

"Reading what you wrote me. This place has a wonderful top."

A door that very clearly said Staff Only was becoming more visible at the other end. I didn't disobey rules the way he did, so when we went right through it, I felt like my heart had just been through another loop. I adored him, really I did... but he was the last person I wanted to get in trouble with... I mean look at him... Okay, you can't, but trust me... He could not look someone in the eye and receive any type of sympathy saying "I didn't realize this area was restricted."

I knew Erik couldn't feel it himself, but the cold sank quickly into my face again once past those doors. My first instinct was to ogle the view, but he notioned towards a ladder to the side of the door, like he wanted me to go first. I had already been led a very long ways, and perhaps up there no one would find us, so I climbed, catching more and more of the cityscape below us, twice as high as the view from the restaurant. By the time I realized this, I was feeling a little dizzy being near the edge.

Rather than taking any look at the sky or the city, he approached the bottom of a flag stand at the right edge and leaned against it, comfortably, taking the book out from his coat.

"Y-You're just going to sit there and read it right in front of me," I interrupted.

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing..." I replied, downcast. I looked up and a smile had appeared across his lips, toward the pages, and I felt myself shrink a little.

"I'm glad that it is... Then you know when you're honest." I knew in that pause that he was reading my response. "Don't you?" I didn't know what to say. "You're not so confused?"

I took a deep sigh. "I just thought you'd be the only one to read it. Alone."

"I can see her fingerprints on the cover..." He began. "She changes the room. She finds darkness intriguing..." A reaction to this sudden recital was out of my grasp, so I dug my empty hands in my pockets and listened, keeping my focus on whatever of his face I could see, trying to read him. "You can't drown in something like this. It's your truth. It'll hurt eventually." His pauses were hitting me harder than words. They made his reading seem like fresh thoughts - like he were writing it right in front of me."I'm going to bring you utmost happiness. Just like you will me."

By the end of that statement, I found his eyes rising, black and stable on me, but not as high as my face. "You don't believe this yet." He tore it out and folded it, then slowly turned around and stretched his arm over the edge. It dropped but was quickly after carried off by the wind. My shoulders tensed immediately.

"What'd you do that for?"

"This is how we met," he answered.

My eyes carried out to the air behind him, as if I would still find that scrap of paper.

"I... I guess."

"At first being honest seems very destructive, Christine, but the more you do it, the more it is your favorite thing..."

Honesty... Always urging honesty, in a context supposed to be dishonest...

"I had to practice with the world before I could get to you," he half-said to me, pulling another paper from his coat pocket and watching it flutter and then fly. "Of course... the world never responds. It only reads. But to know it reads my secrets keeps me sane... I think..." In a second, another appeared in his hand and dropped the next. I took his side to watch them fall, and he was perfectly content continuing, pulling notes left and right from different pockets. "I used to drown in them before I realized I could let them go... and when they're everywhere it doesn't feel like someone can kill your spirit so easily. You were almost killed, Christine..."

Instead of any real reaction, I had only a smile on him. I was afraid anything that came out of my mouth would be unnecessarily sappy and ruin the perfectly thoughtful things he had just said to justify tearing a page out of the book, that I had wanted to keep, and tossing it off the top of a building. I wondered if he noticed how far his hair had swayed out of place. It was always my instinct to fix it, maybe the way I took care of important gifts, and kept his music box exactly in the place it should be.

"Read it, then." He stared at me a moment, until my eyes darted to the book under his arm.

His other hand reached for it, gingerly, and held it over the edge. A gust rolled the pages over and I almost jumped, afraid our possession would meet its death at any time, and I drew it closer to me protectively.

"Hmphh..." He laughed in his breath, right over my ear. It sounded just as it would had I been in my room at this time, drifting by the sound of his voice. It was hard to imagine that this person behind me was there every time, considering it worth it to talk to me for that long, when everyone else was fallen asleep, unavailable, distant...

As the angle now made it difficult for him to read, he leaned over my shoulder and I was enclosed just as the book was.

_"Apparently you don't have to try being poetic, Erik..." _He started again. _"But you have the gift no matter what you say."_ I sensed a thank-you in the following silence. _"You have said the same thing since I met you, but only now have I understood it. I feel like a storm-catcher. I can't help but come towards you despite how greatly you promise to turn me upside down if I step too close..."_

The more his breath fell upon my shoulder, the more it saturated me with a feeling of flight, of obedience to anything he said thereafter. No matter how true any of it was, I had to grab hold of it, like a dream, and let it lead me to that utmost honesty one would never talk about once they awoke.

_"I've strapped myself in and I'm ready, if it means I can take record of this beautiful thing."_

I knew he had reached the end, but the message seemed to go on and on in the following silence. I was talking to him in my mind and he was trying to listen. I had written this only a few hours ago, but I felt it now fell short.

The wind drew his hair around my arm and his hand on the right edge touched my other, holding the book.

"Do we have to send this off the roof now?" I joked.

"No," he answered quickly. "I'd really like to keep it. Actually."

"What about this?" I pointed to the jagged ends of the ripped page.

"I'll write you more."

"But I wanted that."

"I'm... sorry," he tried. "I'm used to throwing everything over the edge..."

"I'm not quite there yet," I answered. I seemed to sense double meaning here. When he paused, I knew he was thinking.

"You've been there many times," he corrected. "I was this. Intangible and anonymous." Book closed against my chest, I wrapped my other arm around his waist and smiled with my face rested into him.

"So basically you're trying to be metaphoric," I added. "Which is poetic, by the way."

"Hmph."

.

.

.

"I... sometimes consider it's the outlet... and not me..." He trailed. "But even if it were... I'm happy to do that for you..." His fingers continued circling over my shoulder all until I broke my face away from his chest and looked up on him, almost glowering.

"No, it's you. ...That couldn't be clearer." He stayed quiet. "Don't think you're less of a person because I can't see you." Something scared him from keeping eye-contact and he focused instead just beside me, but I wouldn't let this confession slip by him once again, like it had managed to several times now. "You're not just an idea for me."

I drilled into him as he had done to me. Following his reaction so carefully, I found his eyes to be the sharpest I had ever seen them. I had grown closer just to see them in full, because I felt like I saw him entirely, perhaps as he had seen me entirely when I received that deep stare. I must've been scaring him, but it unlocked something important for me.

I was against Giry's proposal. Not even just meagerly against it. 100%.

For several reasons.

Number one was that I no longer cared what his name was, and I didn't care what he looked like. I already admired this man more than anyone else in the world, just by his mind and his eyes, and that was what I wanted to focus on - having an affinity that was not based on any distracting details, all of which he'd skillfully kept out of the way, and by then I saw why. I had never had that opportunity before and I wanted to keep it.

Number two was that if I were even capable of discovering his identity, it would mess up everything. It was unfair to him and unfair to me when I was already trying my hardest to piece him together and he was letting me. He was _letting me_. He secretly wanted me to know who he really was.

Lastly, and what must be admitted finally... there was no such thing as discovering his identity in the first place.

As much as he had made me believe in the past that this was a game, he was not a roleplayer.

.

.

_"You look as though you love me,"_ he pronounced, almost cautiously.

.

.

I saw that his eyes returned, and mine this time fled.

_"...No..." _

I hoped, with my answer soft, it would not dull the heights he had reached inside before he asked, but I felt the moment breaking anyway, like he was now going back inside, even though he had given me a feeling with as much magic as love.

His cold exhale reached me very faintly when I decided he had to understand that. Before he could retreat into that place, my own spirit would reach and pull him back, and we found our shadows combining. Slowly but with no hesitance, our faces turned and touched, his lips as careful as his fingers.


	40. Chapter 40 Eclipsed

**AUTHOR'S NOTE/PLEASE READ IT SO YOU'RE NOT CONFUSED.  
**

Hi, everyone. Welcome back to HT. I trust you all read my coming-back note, and it was nice to hear from some of you. Well, as you can imagine, my lack of updates the past... oh, 10 months, had to do with a combination of business, moving out of my home, moving for school, and generally feeling uninspired. Approaching the heart of this story has overwhelmed me, I didn't have the best plot notes to keep myself sure I was having the right stuff (or interesting enough stuff) happen. I had to do a lot of thinking, and confront my own, well, fears, really. I've been scared what to do. I've never felt like a good writer, just a poor writer who wants to write something good and is trying as hard as she can and puts in only what she knows and what she thinks is effective, but... I just don't know anymore if I have a good story. I'm going to keep writing it and show you all what I had planned the past four years; what seemed like where all this was going and who the characters were.

ANYWAY, thinking this through and questioning what I'm doing has persuaded me to drop the last three chapters that I posted and start from chapter 39, where the plot wasn't useless. What's below, the new chapter 40, takes bits and pieces of those scrapped chapters, but it moves right on to more important things, and I'm going to try to be more interested in important things at this point. I don't want you to think I'm writing fluff; two stupid, troubled kids playing dress up and there's no problem. There's a problem and I want to feel sure you see it intensifying.

Furthermore, please do not hesitate to review just to let me know what's on your mind as a reader, even if the installment itself doesn't inspire specific comments. I really really want to be in contact with you because you're my audience - an audience to my first attempt at a novel and without you, I'm scared and self-deprecating and sometimes wonder if I shouldn't be posting it online at all. I like to think it's worth it because I'm getting help and seeing into other people's perspectives.

That'll do it for now. Have a nice read, hopefully.

* * *

**HE'S () THERE**

Chapter 40 – Eclipsed

Did you read the author's note? If not, please read it. I guarantee you want to know what it says before getting into this chapter.

On to chapter:

The kiss poisoned me and set my blood afire. I always knew he was venomous, and every approach to me from behind was a warning of that, but I had made well known that warnings were just invitations. Tonight, especially, all I wanted to do was explore what it seemed I shouldn't; do everything one would find too bold, just for the thrill.

Though I kept my hands low, the back of his coat folded within my fingers. My whole body was warming from the contact, my senses heightened, and the arm around my back was tightening. Inside, I felt I was falling head first... and so at peace with that. I knew the landing would be soft. Just as I had many times imagined a spider's legs carefully turning its prey, he spun me so well.

I wanted to be devoured. There was no winding down on the way back. The both of us were so quiet returning, but my heart continued to race, and I knew we weren't done with each other. He was so unreadable, I couldn't tell if he was taking me straight home; if he had come to fight off this yearning easily and it was only me, feeling the tensest I had in my life. I let my own desperation make me vulnerable when I said I wasn't ready to go home yet, and he acted upon it like he was just waiting for the words. The car took a turn behind the theater again, and my heart raced more. If we had ever once been magnets of the same polarity, it was true no longer. Tonight, we were just an inch apart from snapping together.

That was a snap inevitable.

What happened that night, I would remember later when things were not so sound between us, and it would hurt to remember, but when I returned to my room, I was restless in afterglow. I was in a constant state of being struck by lightning – the lightning, how intense my feelings must've been all this time. The lightning, having such contact with another person…

I hadn't seen him so human before and, come to think of it, I hadn't seem myself so human either. Driven, driven by such a simple desire that claimed those I could never relate to before, we hurried for that room. He never broke out of himself; his posture remained so straight, and he held my hand politely, if only a little tighter than usual. However, the door closed behind me very quickly. Light disappeared, I had no vision of him, but I could hear him, waiting for me, and I delivered.

For a few minutes, he was very quiet and passive as I kissed him, but I felt for the bed behind me, lowered, and when I wrapped my arm around his shoulders, he crawled over me. The first thing he really did himself was cradle me with one hand and bury his face into my neck. It was a simple but powerful statement. The heat beneath his lips traveled, and I felt their course with my arms raised, surrendering my entire body. I wondered how it would be to behave so honestly with him, this way… with all the opposition towards us – when, really, we'd only stopped arguing a short time ago – but those things really couldn't penetrate me, I found. His touch was so overwhelming, my brain hadn't the room for anything else. I'd forgotten where we were and how late it was. The world became completely tactile, and he seemed to get a thrill from making me shiver. I turned him over and his fingers began to trail under my shirt, all the way down my back, then to my leg, bent at our side. As for me, I turned into something different in the dark. I caressed him and kissed him everywhere I could, maybe not the technique of someone experienced, but he sighed in satisfaction and the thought that he felt it alone fueled me to continue.

Though we'd finally snapped, neither of us really undressed. In retrospect, I could have, but I was more focused on the fact that every time I tried to reach for his collar, he took my hands away and distracted me. He sensed me reaching for it again and was about to gather me up, but I weighed him down and spread both hands over his chest so nothing more could keep me from doing what I wanted. He stopped reacting at all. It seemed to me a game that he had ever distracted me from this.

Finding my breath again, I placed my hand flat below his neck, and it was moved up and down as he found his. I still remember I undid five buttons before I thought to open his shirt, all agonizingly slow as I listened to him breathe. My hand stopped on the sixth button and finally ventured to what would soon make it retract, if only for a second. He continued to do nothing but bear witness, but I wasn't deterred. I was strangely unsurprised when I realized scars invaded him all the way down. It was a whole surface of tender ridges. To my knowledge, none were painful to touch, but I knew they had to have been once. For a moment, I was distracted with a slight feeling of discomfort – I sat up and I thought about how shamelessly he talked of hurting himself – but I caught his heart beating and… I found something much more important.

Pretending this was my only discovery, I asked "you know your heart's beating a thousand times a minute?"

His answer, after a deep inhale, was "what of it?"

For a split second, I thought to myself "I know you so well, it's ridiculous. You can't hide from me anymore." And I answered, "you're quite good at pretending to be calm," and my fingers rose along his chest to just below his chin. "Unfortunately, for you, I know exactly how to tell otherwise."

Under my other hand, his chest flattened as he flushed out breath in amusement. I could sense the smile in the dark.

"And _fortunately,_ for me, your method is…"

I don't remember him finishing the sentence, but caught its meaning, and if it had continued much longer, I would've interrupted him anyway. I was still eclipsed by my hormones. I lowered to kiss above my fingertips, pressing my lips over a scar and steadying my chin long enough to feel the heartbeat again.

The moment still makes me shiver out of nowhere, wondering if I really meant what I thought I did by that action. It felt like an act of worship: my body lowered, my face down, my heart so in awe. The night was beautiful all the way through, but I felt unsure who that particular kiss was for.

I'm stating the obvious, but I was having a rough night. A rough week, a rough everything. He was the only thing I was happy about, and adamant about, and I suppose… when I had that revelation that "Erik" was not roleplaying… my mind didn't go the direction it normally would have. It celebrated, for some reason. A person as alive as me, not within the pages of a book, was influenced, in everything he did, by the first person I ever fell in love with. I started to believe, more than I had before, that he channeled something I didn't think could be channeled, and he should be admired for taking a journey so far down a path not many would take. The both of us had, and I thought at the time that it was worth it – absolutely amazing, even, that we had the capacity to do this, even while it had been a little scary.

We didn't go much further than that. I got afraid, and it was so late. I lay next to him and, for a time, he still nuzzled me and combed my hair with his fingers, and pretended it continued all the way down to my waist. He had no idea what I was thinking about at the time. We had a relationship tainted by expectations, of ideas about the other that were more than just a bit on the fantastic side. I was going to have to be okay with the fact that to stay around "Erik", to touch him as I had and still wanted to, was my need to feel closer to something he wasn't entirely, even if I cared about him too…a lot. He had to know it was that way. And I surely had to know it was that way for me. He worshipped Christine, but he wanted me. I had somehow turned out to be her.

His situation, however, was not a "somehow". He willed it. And I wondered… what does a person have to go through – why those scars? What leads someone, especially someone gifted by intelligence, and understanding, and talent, to saying "I want to leave who I am behind"? What happens to someone that they feel they must take on a fictional entity? And especially one known for their misery?

Was he miserable?

I had never really been able to pinpoint how Erik felt besides that he claimed to love me. He was always dodging questions, answering ambiguously, or acting like it didn't even matter. On the other hand, he described an unfavorable situation with his comments about compassion and ruining his whole life. If he'd done that, like he said he did, I doubted it was all for me, or to capture my interest. I don't think I would have kissed those scars if this had just been a roleplay. We'd only come this far because I knew he was seriously troubled, and rather than do anything about it, I just wanted to be with him.

* * *

I wasn't running on a lot of rest. When the sun finally rose, I poured myself a large, uncharacteristic cup of coffee, but only the shell of me went to school. Inside, I was still on the roof. The air hitting my arms in the hallway was the breeze, the windows were the horizon, and the feeling that I was never alone these days was his presence right over my shoulder, about to clasp me around the waist and tell me how wonderful these weird stares were; how they made me somebody. How I was his Christine, and he was my Erik. It was like I was living in a fantasy world suddenly, but I let myself indulge because there was nothing else to enjoy.

In my seat, I wasn't there anymore. I sat close to the door and far from the front and just… thought about total black, and his hands, and the way he tipped me back. I sometimes had to stop myself or I'd find my eyes glazed over and my heart racing all over again. Mr. Darelle knew I'd never feel that way about numbers. Really, all my teachers knew I wasn't paying attention.

From here, I find it useless to describe school at all. I sat by myself at lunch the rest of the week. I suppose if anything was looked forward to, it was Humanities, but I couldn't seem to have as much as fun as everyone else. I was so aware at school that I basically didn't have friends. Sure, I'd see Giry in the hallway and we'd have short conversations, but she seemed to have gotten very busy and stopped getting on AIM or texting me. It made me lonely, but in a way I was grateful, considering the last conversation we had. I didn't know if she was going to appreciate what I did with Erik for much longer, once she realized we were standing at the border, contentedly, like there was nothing more natural. I couldn't casually tell her he couldn't distinguish himself from his own character, and more, that I was just fine with that.

What I decided to do in replacement of friendship was text Erik, because he'd give me attention whenever I wanted it. Like every kid I had scorned in the past, I had my cellphone on silent somewhere easy to reach in my bag, just waiting for any small text message. He'd respond within the hour – if not, the minute – and he'd have conversations with me as I held the phone under my desk. He'd email me, too. He'd make me laugh. He'd make my face turn red. It didn't seem possible that anyone could feel so passionately about _me,_ but I was addicted to hearing about it. He knew exactly when I was off work and would send a message just to say I'd made it another day, then ask if I wasn't too tired to see him again.

The truth is… I _was_ too tired. I was exhausted. I didn't want to do anything anymore because it kept me from having the energy to see him, or be creative in any way before him. I'd start falling asleep if I read in the bath tub. Tea made me rest my head on my textbook. The weather was depressing. I really did want to see him, but when I fell asleep out of nowhere, it was hard to get back up, wrap myself in sweaters, and head out that late at night. I was sick and tired of it being complicated, so I started having ideas for how to make him happy. Ones that involved quitting my job and telling Mr. Darelle I didn't need tutoring anymore even though I still had a D.

* * *

_Lily,_

_Before I can go on another day I need to say this to you, because it's been driving me mad, and now that you're already angry with me, things can't get worse. I avoided being completely honest in the past because I respected your feelings and wasn't sure if what I thought was right, but now things are getting ridiculous and I'm probably the only one who will say something rational._

_I knew he was up to something. Since day one. In fact it was you who said how strange it was that a stranger wanted to meet you at the theater building out of nowhere, and me who thought you were being too suspicious. Well.. I regret that now. And no, before you get any ideas, it was hardly because he wouldn't tell you who he was. I was teasing you. It was when he started telling you what to do and making you mad that I thought he had some nerve when he had met you like a month ago, or less than a month ago. You claim that that is part of the roleplay but he's just kept barging in to our personal lives and following even me and Paulina around. Who knows if you've even heard the full story, but it hasn't been that nice. It's only been "nice" for you. I got that. I believe you, I think he probably does a lot of nice things for you, but it's in a certain context which I do not know if you see. Which is that he is clearly obsessed with you. That's not good nor is it the same as having a crush. He is OBSESSED, and (I can't believe I'm about to compliment him) has done something really smart thinking if he talks to you as a phantom that you will listen to him. But you listen too much and that's why I get freaked out. That stuff about you being a weirdo - it's crap. He's alienating you from us. All he ever does is pull you away, make you devote all your energy to him, believe God knows what. I only hear snipits from Paulina that don't make any sense. And yeah, Paulina's gotten on my nerves too, something just doesn't set right with me with how she worked her way around the both of us. I heard about how she has talked to him and tried to find things out about him but shit, I don't know her that well and sometimes I wonder if she's on his side or something, because she always encourages you to work things out with him. _

_If it were ever just a "roleplay" you would not be acting so serious about it. I don't want to be going around having fights with you but you seem like you're losing it. I'm not the bad guy. Okay fine, for argument's sake I won't call 'the phantom' the bad guy either, but you don't seem to have your guard up with him. You have your guard up with me but not at all with him, it makes no sense. It's frustrating because the more you just trust him and not tell the whole story to me, the more he'll take advantage of it. He's probably loving this, just reeling you in one day at a time, nobody to stop him... of course, you don't believe me at all. You've even ignored that he's scared me more than once. I don't know what else to fucking say because it's so obvious except I'm NOT trying to be the bad guy, but if you're just going to ignore me, I guess you have to figure it out on your own. Or maybe, since you listen to Paulina more than me, she will finally say something that takes into account reality and you will listen to her. _

_Well, those are my thoughts. Sorry that they actually come between us. _

* * *

It was Friday, and I didn't have work or tutoring. Everything was covered in frost, and slippery, but I walked down the hill hurriedly and relieved. He had invited me to see him. He asked, in a text quite out of the blue, what I wanted to do once I got there. He tempted me with physical touch quite a lot that week, if I were to visit, so much that I didn't know what to do with my own desires. I told myself that wasn't why I wanted a relationship, but if he took me in his arms as soon as he saw me, I couldn't see myself putting up a fight. I prepared for it, even. I'd spread on scented lotion and was busy shaving my legs in the sink when, to my dismay, I received a message from him that he could not see me right away and he asked if I could wait a couple hours.

With a deep sigh, I obliged. I checked my email instead. When I received the above, I mostly skimmed it because I didn't want to make myself pissed off, and I knew she would piss me off. But he kept pushing our meeting further and further, and I went back to the message and read it anyway.

It was hard to decide the best way to react. My instinct was to rip her a new one. She was wrong, wrong, wrong, about almost everything. The only thing she wasn't wrong about was that Erik and I had no roleplay anymore, but that was not something I could admit and expect her to find my less crazy by doing so. It was a complete dead-end with her because our ideas were so different, and I spent the rest of my time waiting for him, pacing with my headphones; feeling trapped, like a dog waiting for a walk and pent up with energy, especially now that frustration was in the mix.

All I could think was "please take me out of this. Please make me feel loved, like I'm Christine, and not Lily."

* * *

At the side of my house, I waited for him to appear. My shadow was just to my side, sharply cutting into the wall and moving just to its edge as I peered through a half-dead tree. I didn't know which direction he was coming so I kept glancing down each side of the street and my eyes ritually squinted to the darkened sidewalk at the other end. Headlights appeared from down the street and were approaching steadily. I stepped behind the tree to hide, but the light never passed, and an engine hummed softly at the curb. My cautious glance found the gold car and I escaped the cold quickly. When I opened the passenger door, he was a dark shape inside. The only thing much visible was a white hand over the arm rest.

I was shivering and my partially exposed legs had goose bumps, but he did not speak before stepping on it. Just as I was eager to sit and close my door, he was eager to abandon the main road and the streetlights. I rested my head against the window and eyed the digital numbers of the clock. Two in the morning. I'd plead for an earlier time but no dice. Last minute he delayed our visit another hour for an unknown reason, and his texts had steadily lost their punctuation. I was pretty frustrated with him, truthfully, but I was hoping for a second wind.

"I need some air, if that's alright with you. I promise we can come back if you get cold," he said eventually, eying the skirt below my coat. I quietly acknowledged and watched us head down the forest road, but my focus wandered to his hand, sort of hovering over the gear stick, wanting to close, then stretching its fingers, then completely still. The otherwise stiffness of him and the hard focus on the road made it look as though he was still alone in the car, or unaware of me.

The familiar path along the river passed us by and our car was traveling a narrow, rather claustrophobic street, where trees gradually dominated and all the lights from up above fought through the leaves to reach us. The road spilled into a small lot, and I could see the water just nearby as a strip of black. He parked the car in the furthest end, completely shaded, and before I had even unbuckled my seatbelt, he stepped out and walked away. He wasn't terribly far, but his back was turned and his arms were crossed. At first I didn't know what to do. Clearly something was wrong.

I stepped out of the car with some difficulty, as he had parked very close to a hedge. I was forced to sort of waddle sideways. Once I was out, I stood with my arms dangling a moment before deciding I wouldn't approach him, so instead I stepped near the ramp and watched the river. It was deep below the cities on both sides, and the wind didn't much reach it. It gave me a very solitary feeling until I checked behind me. Erik had come nearer and I looked to him for any word, but he just passed me and the ramp clanked by his steps. I followed without invading his space. He never stopped until he had ventured clear across. There, his eyes settled somewhere below him before they caught me standing there, and he needed only to show a simple reaction - a hand turned and slightly raised - for me to come forward. The hand reached past my flower clip and fixed some stray hairs, but that was as much as he did.

Though I tried very hard and kept my scarf tightly under my chin, the air was finding its way up my sleeves. If he would say nothing, I thought I could still enjoy his company by closing my hands around his arm. He let me, but it was with no reaction. I had showered, I had picked out a reasonable dress to be or not be in (not that I was ready for what you're thinking), and this is what happened instead?

"You could've canceled, you know..." I tried to say, with some hint of humor.

"No, I'm actually very grateful you're standing next to me right now..." His voice reached my ear." It reminds me of my priorities; it keeps me from doing something... that I shouldn't do..." I waited for something more, in vein.

"Well then… I'm glad to be here for you," I tried.

Nothing.

High above us the solid black shapes of trees, stripped of their leaves, stretched over the dark steel blue sky. The moon was lost behind clouds, and only a sliver, but I rested my eyes on it for a while, secretly monitoring Erik: listening to his breath and feeling for any movement. He very suddenly laid his gaze on me, paused, and he pulled his coat off, which shook my grip off his arm. "You're shivering. Take it." The offer startled me, but I brought it tentatively to my chest. The moment the coat was no longer in his possession, he lowered to the cement and crossed his legs. I bit my lip and lowered as well, absolutely certain he was going to find himself twice as cold as me at this rate, but he took no notice of my hesitance to do more than hold that coat awkwardly. I hadn't the faintest idea what use I could be at this point, even though he'd said he wanted me there. It was nothing like last we had seen each other. He'd made me feel so wanted all week, and yet it was so easy for him to look like he'd revoked all that. I knew it couldn't be true, though.

"...Are you okay?" He made only a small sound to confirm, and the both of us knew it wasn't convincing. I put the coat on my lap. I wanted to rest my hand on him somewhere, so I raised it to his shoulder and rested my cheek on the other, hoping my warmth might thaw his heart, even just a little. "You don't seem it," I said, and I watched him for his answer.

"When I seem angry, it's not always that I'm bothered – it's a defense mechanism, to keep people away when I don't want to deal with them," he more mused than replied, quickly and under his breath. I didn't like the sound of it at all.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"_No," _he snapped. My posture stiffened. "I'm sorry. It's not related to you at all." Before I could do anything else, he stood straight up again. "When I'm no longer frustrated, I'll treat you like you deserve."

"Then I should go home-"

_-"No." _The only thing I thought to do was sit there, unprepared and a mite uncomfortable.

"I'm not sure how to comfort you," I told him honestly.

"You don't know your own effect."

I wanted to smile but here he was with his back turned to me, and the hands I wanted protectively around him were dropped to my lap and useless. After some time, he faced me and almost looked to be fidgeting, but it didn't last more than a few seconds.

"I'm very sorry that I had you dangling by a thread all day. I know you wanted me to accommodate your schedule. I was going to, but not everyone wants me to act in your best interests. Some are very intent on making a situation as unpleasant as possible, almost to deter me from doing anything-…" He began to spit the words somewhat aggressively under his breath, but paused, giving me a labored smile instead of finishing his sentence. "I won't waste your time with that. You know already how much I need you to defy for the sake of your happiness, even when it seems very difficult."

I didn't know what to say.

"I wish I could ask you, and be certain, that you won't let anyone make you feel it's not worth it to be who you really are."

I fumbled with my words, and ended up with "I won't," though my eyes were wide and I didn't see where this was coming from.

"Unfortunately, neither of us can trust your word yet because you haven't truly been tested. But you will soon, and... you'll hate it." The statement was matter-of-fact, almost cold. "You'll find yourself wondering if it's not easier to be beaten to shape." I lowered my gaze to my hands over his coat, spread to warm my legs, but it wasn't helping much. "You deserve a warning, that's all. But you're starting somewhere much closer to happiness than I was; a place where you're not wandering through darkness with nothing but hope that you're going in the right direction. I feel it's my duty to lead you through the safest path to what you want. You should know that you have me."

"You know we've been through this. I'm not letting anyone stop me from seeing you."

"People are stopped most without their consent, Christine. And no offense to you at all, but… you're very stoppable at this point. You don't have a lot of power to do what you want without me." He seemed stern as his fingers curled, but he reached into his pocket and watched just behind me as another thought came. "Even my escape was almost impossible, and I still see it behind me, all the time."

"Why do you look back, then?" He seemed surprised I asked.

"Why do _you_ look back?" He put me on the spot, even though there were many reasons. I didn't think "Mariam" or "my parents" or "school" was what he was looking for. I watched him pull from his pocket a switchblade and it straightened my posture.

"You didn't answer me," I told him, watching the knife with uncertainty. He lowered in front of me and began to sharpen the knife. Nothing about this night seemed to be normal, so I just went with it.

He explained, calmly as he swiped the blade, "I am stuck here until you're ready."

I knew this was an allusion to his attempt to make me leave my home and my comfort, and again all my heart could do was recoil. I watched him do as he did for a moment, noting a light from far off, reflecting in the blade onto the buttons of his vest. I tried to find the boldness I had earlier that week and summoned my most honest thought. "You're the only one desperate to escape, and I don't know why."

"Because I saw what it was I needed _to do. _And whether it makes sense to anyone else, I could care." He gave the blade a harsh strike. "To me, I found out how to become perfection, by the standards that _matter_. Those standards don't happen to involve anything I used to do before this."

It seemed more that he was talking to himself than to me, because he must have known I wouldn't make the most sense of it. "And what are your standards for living?"

He smiled. "Well, I guess the staple is finding your purpose, but it otherwise deviates from person to person. I find myself preoccupied with control. Of my body, of my mind, and… most important, my actions." He checked the sharpness of the blade with his finger and continued without looking at me. "I think the best way to get me to do something is to strongly oppose it, only because of a ridiculous prejudice… Provided you haven't the place to tell me what to do…" He lowered his tools and looked me in the eye. "You know I would listen to you." His focus lowered to his coat in my lap, and he smiled again. "You have no greater or more respectful friend in the world than I."

I watched as a bit of him retreated, and smiled to nothing, but inside I wondered…

"Are you trying to say people ought to just rebel all the time, as if no one has anything good to say about what they should do?"

"No, I'm saying when people get together and define normalcy, it can be very oppressive to those with… I'm not quite sure how to say it."

"…Weirdos?" I smiled, but he didn't.

"I guess those with dysphoria of a sort. They've ended up in the wrong place and need to find the right place, and the right people. And… lucky for your friends, they have… no searching to do. It's okay, though… I'm really-… See, you've made me feel better just by listening to me, even though I haven't said anything useful."

"No, it's fine. I've done the same thing, many times, with you."

"Are you cold?"

"Just a little," I said. He seemed preoccupied in his head and didn't catch that I was lying. He made his way back to the edge; to the fluctuating reflection of the sky just by our feet. I was behind him, and when I touched his shoulders, they felt so stiff. I rubbed his back very tentatively and watched the sky, pretending nothing was on my mind. After no discernible reaction, I peeked over his shoulder and his eyes opened quickly when he realized I had stopped. "You like that." I knew my voice captured my satisfaction. He gave me a weak smile. The pleasure of having seen him comforted led my arms around him and I laid my cheek to his back. I didn't let go for a long time. I liked to imagine he returned to resting his eyes. Eventually, I clutched his shoulders and leaned forward. "Am I making you tired?"

"I won't be tired for a while." My hold weakened. "But thank you." For a split second I entertained myself with the thought of reminding him of the rules about "thank you"'s, but a "you're welcome" was so strong in my head, I couldn't turn it into something like that.

After considerable silence, he whispered in that gentle, low voice that never came out of him during the day "tell me this won't be so rare in the future."

"Erik... for the thousandth time, I intend to spend much of my future with you." I smiled, although he couldn't see. "I love to be around you. I like what you're doing, and I think it's brave, even if I don't understand all of it. But so far I'm with you."

"Heh… If you keep that up, I'm afraid I'll never be able to let you go. I already need you more than I imagined I would."

"I could say the same."

"You didn't think you needed me before you knew me." I lost my interest in the view down the dock and took my head from his back… Slowly, I inched around him, enough to look him in the eye.

"I think I did, and that's what scares me."

"It doesn't need to scare you," he replied, softly, his eyes settling on me, seemingly admiring my features. Naturally, I had to look away from this attention so I could continue to string sentences.

"But I didn't anticipate I'd ever know a person I wanted before I'd ever met them. I thought they'd stay in my head. It's overwhelming. It's like winning the lottery because you bought a ticket every once in a while, and -… I'm sorry, this is stupid." He seemed to be waiting for me to finish my sentence, regardless. "Well, I don't know what to do with the money." My pause was his as well. "I'm totally done with this. This metaphor. It's…" I sighed desperately, but he chuckled.

"I know exactly what to do with the money," he asserted. I lowered my head and smiled, and before I knew it, he'd leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead. "I'm more afraid I'm going to have it revoked, and…" he paused, and I could no longer feel the words hitting my temple. "You know, it _is_ kind of an awkward metaphor."

"I told you!"

"Awkwardness is one of the reasons you're endearing. Are you cold yet?" He asked into my ear.

"Yes, but… I'm afraid if I stop being cold, I'm going to realize how tired I am." He situated himself for stance and reached for my hand. When we rose together, he assured me,

"We'll go back and you can rest… downstairs. Perhaps you can stay again. I'd like that."

"You know I can't. My parents will have no idea what happened to me."

"Well then I'll make sure you stay up a while longer."

He offered his arm and we returned to the lot, where he realized, now with a clear mind, that my side of the car was rather close to the bushes. "Don't," he started as I began to step forward. "Let me pull out." I watched this with quite a grin and opened the door after the car rolled in front of me. Inside, he pulled out a small book and was holding it in his hand while his other searched within his coat. It seemed to find what he wanted, but it paused when he saw me staring.

"Just a moment." The hand finally revealed a pen but hovered over the book in his lap.

"Uhm... alright." I nodded but had no idea what he was talking about. He just started scrolling, then paused, and shot me his sharp eyes. I may have flinched when he did.

"What are you writing?" I asked, but he never answered. He never again looked me face to face either, but between his bouts of scribbling I caught his focus on the hand to my side, or my knees closed together. When he closed the book, he only watched the steering wheel in front of him a moment before finding the keys between us and jabbing them into the ignition. The car rumbled as I looked him straight on. "Aren't you going to tell me?"

"I don't want to sound poetic."

He pulled out with a tiny smile and I shook my head a little. I resorted to looking out the window, watching my eyes in the reflection. I wanted to know. The car journeyed through the forest again and I caught sight of the glowing numbers on the dashboard. 2:47. It started raining as soon as we left.

He parked the car behind the theater again and looked at me after he turned off the engine. A black abyss seemed beyond the windows, but I was ready to open my door when the pattering on the roof grew twice as hard. He returned my apprehensive grin with an offer.

"It hasn't been wet enough that I should have to carry you, but for whatever reason, or none at all, I'd be happy to." He seemed utterly impish when he said it.

"I-I'm alright."

"Okay." He reached in the back and pulled out his umbrella, then disappeared for a second in that dark shadow of the theater where he had always chosen to hide the car. My door opened and what appeared to me first were his black eyes, wide with enthusiasm, and he leaned forward with the umbrella and offered his hand. …He was so angry just an hour ago. It was a weird thing, taking a tall step at the platform and watching him attempt to hold the umbrella upright while bowing underneath the railing, coat-tails dropping sideways.

Inside, lights started appearing little by little, but he stopped speaking to me. His playfulness was temporarily lost as he scanned the place, and hurried, seemingly skeptical that we were the only ones there. Perhaps those other insomniac friends made their rounds at 3:00, but I doubted it. He unlocked the back door before I'd even caught up to him, and once that room was lit, he reached into his pocket and the rest of the theater went black again. I noted a spiral staircase to our right as he closed the door quietly. He gestured for me to go first, so I climbed. At the second floor, I knew there that he had once invited me into the mirror. "Keep going," he said, so I did. At the third floor, I asked where we were going.

"The observatory."

"I'm serious."

The pushed the door in front of us in and I could only make out a number of shapes by the dim moonlight. I followed its source to a circular window at our end and my lips parted just a little. "It's only an attic," he said, as the light illuminated the shapes. "I only like to call it that... It makes it seem a little more important. Or maybe pretentious."

"It sounds a little pretentious to me, but that's what makesyou endearing. You're very ambitious."

"Is that so?"

He crossed his arms and let me explore. Across the floorboards, at the far end, was a perfectly centered wardrobe that almost had a presence of its own. I approached it just a little. Behind it were a number of unmarked boxes, empty picture frames, and stage equipment. Several chairs lined the sides of the room, some facing out windows along the angle of the roof. My hand landed on the top of a chair to peer into a box sitting on a table, filled with books, but before I could make out a title I had a fit of sneezes. I sniffled to myself with my back turned and caught him smiling at me, just as he always did.

"See that's the difference between an '~observatory~' and an attic. Observatories are dusted," I said.

"Oh, well excuse me."

"So this is your grand plan to keep me awake?"

He walked towards me very calmly. I noticed something graceful about it, like he was ready to drop all defenses and become as vulnerable as when he laid beneath me. I could picture my hand there on his chest. Everything was so immaculate about his clothes; it was weird to know what he was covering. And _not _to know how _much_ he was covering, still.

"You didn't want to fall asleep downstairs. I just thought I'd... bring you somewhere I go sometimes-..." he paused, "sometimes to hide. Or to feel sure no one will disturb me." His approach cut short. He stood idly in front of me. "I lock it. You should feel safe here."

"Heh... I'm not fleeing from anything."

"In case you ever find yourself to be," he tried. "I trust you."

I smiled. My exploration of the room continued but he followed me slowly each way I turned. I kept my hands to my sides and focused on my peripheral. I couldn't make out what he was doing, but I knew he was paying close attention. His footsteps started up again when I returned to the front of the room and pressed my fingers against the circular window. "Do you stare out this a lot?"

"Not so much, no... It's too noticeable. The ones on the sides give you much more privacy. And I never turn on the light."

I was sure now this was the room I saw illuminated when looking to the theater from the top of the park structure. I had seen it several times since, always pretending it was proof he was near... just a few minutes away. Now I just didn't know.

I turned behind me and he had picked up a chair. He brought it just to my side and set it down.

"I wish I could take better care of you here..."

"It's fine-"

"-I don't have any tea." He smirked, but I caught a glimpse of regret, still.

"I don't want tea at three in the morning, anyway."

"Well if you ever come to depend on me, at any time, I will have it for you." He seemed so serious when he said it. I had his hand in my lap. I held it more tightly and took a deep breath, not knowing if I should ask why he talked like this.

"You're beauty incarnate," I found his voice to say quite unexpectedly. I looked up and, out of nowhere, he was trance-like. "I resist saying such things, as I know they're disagreeable to you, but I will fight you for that…"

It shouldn't have, but it made me shrivel in disbelief. If I hadn't been so tired, I'd be ready to turn out the lights again and resume a few nights ago. I seemed already to be better at that than confronting his intense conversation starters.

"I know we were laughing earlier and I can be very vague, but… If there could only be one thing I was sure about, it… Nevermind."

"What?"

"You already know how I feel about you. Whether you reciprocate it is another matter, but…"

"I do."

He lowered his face and sighed, and where I needed to read him best, the mask encased him. The meaning of my utterance didn't come until my walk home, after he told me, with a twinge of dissatisfaction, "you never seem to agree with yourself."

I don't know how I could tell him I didn't love him and, with implication, that I did, all in the same week, but I knew that even seeming to do the latter had summoned his blood all over again, even if he caught immediately that it was a mistake. He must have known I only pretended to register the gravity he was trying to apply. Deep down, I kept on assuming, and more understanding, the idea that we exhilarated the other, and they were all words to excite. That it was intense lust, for body, mind, and interaction, but not something so concrete; so honest; respectable; applicable outside this crazy inner universe that we now lived in when the night took over.

The moment where he and I seemed to be the only thing present faded and I could hear the rain again, but, by his gaze of my reflection in the window, I imagined he hadn't come back to that same reality yet.

I didn't know what to say to him. I had already reassured him tonight, and it wasn't good enough. I couldn't confront what he was trying to say was unrequited.

"You probably want to be leaving now," he said to my lap. "I'm going to run out of ways to keep you awake because I would much rather go downstairs with you."

"Alright."

I stood and pulled my coat together, but I received no eye contact from then on. He looked down the other end of the attic with his hand searching his pockets hurriedly. I never wandered too far ahead as he locked each door, but it made no difference. He had nothing to say to me, and I had nothing to say to him.

I was followed and shielded from the rain the whole way back, and he was so certain no one would see him, he didn't stop until the edge of the front porch. I was about to get my keys.

"Christine,"

"Yes?"

"These are to the stairwell and the side door. If you don't want to go home, or you need to wait for me…" He held the key ring just in front of him, so as I retrieved it, he took my hand and kept me close. "Don't try to enter through the front. Always use those stairs. Don't go anywhere but the attic. Don't come before nine in the morning. Don't come at all on weekends unless I ask you to or give you permission at a specific time." I tried to nod, but I knew, even in my rested state, that I may need to write this down. He seemed to read my mind, though. "Of course, I'll remind you later."

Favor after favor… I kissed him and unlocked the door as silently as possible, but it was truly a remarkable thing I last saw before I closed it.


	41. Chapter 41 From His Solitude

**Author's Note: **Here you go. Thanks for the sweet replies. :) I look forward to hearing from more people this week. I'll try to have the next update next weekend but I can't promise it just yet. I'm going to be busy and this is my only day I can really get cracking.

Two extra things: I've got a new poll up at the top of my profile. I also gave HT a Facebook page, which is linked at the bottom of my profile. Excited to see how that goes!

* * *

**HE****'****S****()****THERE  
**Chapter 41 – From His Solitude

The parents had been gone for two hours when I heard the doorbell. The first message Erik sent me on that day was that we should meet again, so he could deliver the black book. He must have been worried he'd forget to tell me, because the message was sent very early in the morning. I didn't receive it until noon, when I'd finally rolled out of a deep sleep.

Although I'd told him he could visit the house, I hadn't expected it quite then and stumbled into the bathroom to fix myself very frantically. He seemed to hate waiting these days, and I was so caught up in him that, no matter how necessary it was, I felt guilty for all that time between the ring and when I opened the door.

He was staring down, into space, but my image and the light seemed to flush life into him. Suddenly he looked like he wanted to rush inside, but he stopped himself, returned his eyes to that same space, and raised the black book in front of me. I took it from him, and he said, to the wall beside the door frame, "How are you?"

"I'm alright-"

"Are you busy?" This time, he directed the question at me and I was suddenly very aware that only a few inches were between us. I pressed the book against me, both arms crossed, and stepped back, holding a gaze that invited him in. He stepped forward, closing the door behind him without really noticing it at all, and I set the book on the top of the couch. When I raised my hands to take his shoulders, he came towards me and like some kind of movie I leaned back over the couch's edge as our lips met. He rather fell into me, so much that I couldn't support him, and I started tipping back, but he caught me very smoothly and pressed me tightly against him. His body and clothes were so chilled and stiff, I felt goose bumps spreading over my arms, but I kept still, and he went quiet with his chin over my shoulder. I looked out the front windows behind him out of habit.

"We might want to go upstairs," I said. He didn't seem to hear me until I was repeating myself, suddenly anxious that he wasn't letting go and we were right in the living room, but when his arms withdrew from my waist, they dangled, and he dropped to his knees in front of me, and looked down, and under his breath was a moan, very sudden and certainly unintended. He didn't look at me afterward, or wonder if I was confused, he only saw that the book had fallen to the floor by his feet, and picked it up, and began reading it. He was muttering to himself, even, and I was lost. I watched him and lowered to the seat, and lent him my touch on his forearm, but he wouldn't respond when I said his name. "Did you hear me?"

"Do you want to read this now? It has quite a lot to say."

"I… I'll save it for later. It holds me over—"

"You shouldn't have to be held over."

I sighed and looked off. "…I don't think we should be out here," I said. After a pause, he knew what I meant, but he seemed to rise with a sense of agitation, and he placed the book back in his coat. I set the example and tried to hurry for the stairs, but his pace was unworried. He reached me when he wanted to reach me. When I watched him come closer, there was something odd about his gate. I waited with my arm extended, hoping for his hand. He reached for me and had a newfound focus which I could feel on my back, but halfway up the stairs, I felt a tug. I wondered if he would pull me into a spontaneous kiss or the like, but the action wasn't playful. It hit me he was in pain again. I knew his tack of pretending there was no such thing. "Erik?" I turned around and stopped. "What's wrong?"

He was quick to think it funny, but the kitchen light to our side revealed a shimmer to his skin.

"I'm serious."

"I know," he answered, his eyes widening.

"Then why are you laughing?" He hadn't an answer. "You think it's funny when I'm worried about you."

As I wasn't going up as soon as he wanted to, he let go of my hand and journeyed the rest of the way, and I noticed a rip down the shin of his pants. He gripped the railing and leaned toward me. "I do find it funny, but in no condescending way. It's different. I think it's fascinating."

He made very clear eye contact and then disappeared to down the right side of the hall, which immediately perked me up. He would come face to face with my parents' bedroom. I ran up the rest of the steps and threw my arms out at his shape, though I could hardly see it now that the light from downstairs had gotten lost around the corner of the hall. "Don't go in there!"

"Something I shouldn't know?"

"No, something _they_ shouldn't know."

"They're not going to know I was here."

"They could come home any minute, actually."

"Well isn't that exciting?"

"You're good enough at being exciting outside. I'm not in the mood to hide you in my closet overnight."

He stopped with the banter all together and turned for the other side of the hall. He flipped on the light in the bathroom, then off, then on in the next room, and it all happened so fast, I couldn't stop him when he entered my room and slid open the closet. I froze right behind him. I knew the roses were there, but I also knew the whole room was behind him. Nothing of him moved but his eyes as they noted the objects inside: surely my book shelf, my little desk in front of it, my chair and blanket… the roses – he never mentioned them, though a smile was beginning to curl up his face impishly. He looked as if he'd conquered. Even hunched over, his presence, black and tall, cut into my simple room with unsettling contrast.

I eyed his torn shin again and fidgeted.

"What's wrong with your leg?" He took a deep, tired breath, and ignored me.

"It looks like you already have it set up for me."

"Erik?"

"Christine?" He withdrew from the closet opening and I met his smile with a glower. He saw my restless hands and took his time coming up with something to say, laying gaze upon all my things in the meantime. For a brief moment, I met eyes with Charles the Owl, sitting over a unique landscape of sheets I hadn't bothered to smooth. At the desk, there was an open book for Humanities sat next to a half-drunk cup of green tea, and my sweater had nearly fallen off the chair. I went to adjust it, and I slapped the book closed with enough force to make Erik sure I was waiting. "I was a bit reckless tonight. I took a bad route, a quick one, to reach you. I came across someone governed by impulses,"

He may as well have said "I'm bleeding profusely." I whipped around and grimaced.

"Someone tried to hurt you?" He eyed my music box instead of answering. He didn't seem sure, himself, what experience to claim. "Y-you were mugged?"

"No. Although, I have been once. I had nothing valuable so they knocked me straight in the back of the head," he finished with light laughter. "But that was years ago. They would never get away with that now."

He was distracting me. I knew it. If he wasn't mugged, it was a fight. I was summoning the courage to call his attempts, from the very beginning, unconvincing at best, but he asked, simply and sincerely, "…Can you help me?"

My vitriol flatlined. I held on to the top of my chair. "What do you want me to do?" I asked. It felt surprisingly right to agree right away, even with a secret so clearly between us, and even though it still bothered me.

"I lost the tape I usually use to cover these types of things. If you have anything similar… If you don't, I can leave like this. I've bled but it's dried over-"

"No, I'll find something." I went looking immediately. He followed, looking like he was in a daydream, standing in the door frame, just breathing in and out, chest rising. I was imagining the ridges of glassy flesh under my fingers again while they rummaged through my drawer. _These __types __of__ things, _I thought_._ "I don't have any tape like that. I have to check downstairs. You can clean it up with whatever," I went on, sort of swishing my hand at the Kleenex on the counter. I'd not seen the cut, and I almost didn't want to, but I knew it was weird not to want to see it. He was supposed to be someone I loved. No, not loved. He was supposed to be someone I cared about and wanted to take care of, or why else would I be searching the house, when my parents could be back any minute, with Erik at the door frame of my bathroom, smiling at me…

I gave him his privacy (or, I guess, implied privacy), when I rushed past him. I passed the living room and my candle on the coffee table had burned out, smoke was rising, and I knew by it that my parents had been gone a while. I looked out the front windows and then came to the kitchen. It seemed so likely that my mom and dad would burst through the garage door, but the house remained silent, save for me digging through bandage bags, trying to find our biggest.

I climbed the stairs with everything, even disinfectant, and headed towards that rim of light. I didn't knock before entering, and I caught him bent over my jewelry box, gingerly prodding my necklaces. He saw me in the mirror and straightened himself.

"It's cute how attached you are to flowers. Perhaps that's..."

I smiled nervously, assuming his sudden stop was to put me on edge. "What?"

His other hand reached my view. It was twirling one of my hair accessories, a pink double-layered bow, as he found his sentence caught. "...Perhaps that's why you always wear them... in your hair... "

Seeing him touch my things seemed to bring my feelings back to an intense state. I don't know if it was because I was a girl or if it was just me and Mariam, but our hair things were personal; kind of a part of us, and so was my jewelry. His exploration of even those small things, at the time, solidified in my entirely charmed head that he was troubled but everything someone could ever dream to have in a partner.

I set down the stuff and shrugged off the thought. "That's funny. Most people say my name...destined me for-" I too suddenly struggled with the topic. It came together why he had paused. "Thinking of wearing your own?" He dropped the bow to the counter and smiled to himself.

"That would be a waste of them, wouldn't it?"

"Not exactly…" I took a deep breath. "So are you okay?"

"You know, it's beautiful the way you mean that question. I've heard it twice, lately, haven't I?" He proceeded to ask himself. I decided to be bold once more and back him in to a seat, and he welcomed it, still without focus, raising his arms gently beneath mine as they rested on his shoulders.

"Are you worried it hurts?" His smile grew larger for a moment; then it vanished.

"I'm worried you're hiding things from me, but sure, that too. Did you clean it?"

"Not yet. Too many distractions."

"Should I go?"

"Going won't make you less of a distraction," he said, eyes wandering back to me, but he rose again. "Ladies should sit."

I didn't try to watch when he lowered and pulled up the torn fabric. My eyes mostly wandered to meaningless objects, like the rubber duck clan sitting at the edge of my bathtub, and to the box of razorblades still sitting nearby from my desperate cleaning session. He didn't say anything, and he was fast. Perhaps it was a talent of his to clean up wounds. …I would hear his breath again, gaining volume, and I felt sometimes that he had paused just to catch me eying the ceiling fixture. I wanted to seem like I didn't know or didn't mind, so I ignored those pauses, but after a particularly long one, he said "thank you" in a very stern tone, and I looked down, and he had that sharpness coming back. It made me feel like a gun was pointed at me; expecting something immediate, or… Or…

"Of course."

He put the bandage bag, closed, and the disinfectant neatly at the edge of the counter without rising and leaned forward, arms extending. He looked ready to crawl to me, if he weren't already so close.

"Are you happy this way?" He would never give up, would he?

"…I think so."

"_I __don__'__t __like__ to __see __you__ stay __up__ so __late. __It__'__s__ not__ good__ for __you__…" _he muttered.

He watched his hands and decided to stand up. I did as well. I wanted out of the conversation before it started. I looked for a distraction, an easy one, and saw my comb just in front of him.

"We're not going to have much more time," I told him. I started fixing his hair and, in the mirror, his eyes flickered tiredly. I added in my lightest tone: "We have to bring you back to a state of perfection."

It was the wrong thing to say. I meant to comment on his beauty, but the then-closed eyes opened with two-hold alertness. I'd given him the power to push through my touch, but I kept trying; brushing his hair with my fingers and lifting it over his ear so I could trace the hard edge of his mask. He was my doll. He thought to himself a while and I laid my cheek to his back.

"What would be a worthwhile trade for all of this?" He asked. My face turned in and I hid there, where he blocked all of me from the mirror.

"…What?"

"I'm just curious. I don't understand people who are attached to places. When you're constantly uprooted, you have to look for alternatives to that feeling one gets that everything's fine…"

I didn't say anything.

"Christine…"

Still, I was silent.

"I'm unhappy without you."

.

.

"I've been waiting to tell you. I don't want to have to leave anymore. Don't you wish I didn't have to leave?"

.

.

"You ask if I'm okay… Between you closing your door last night and opening it today, no, I wasn't okay. I don't have a home besides you. I don't feel I can really sleep unless you're next to me."

.

.

"I've felt that way a while but I knew if I admitted it too early, you wouldn't understand, or you'd think I didn't mean it." His hand covered mine on his shoulder and slowly took it away. He was turning to me and exposing me to that mirror, holding my fingers and raising my arm.

.

.

.

"We need to make a compromise." My wrist was met with warm air and he held it under his eyes with extreme focus.

"I'm trying to make this work," I reasoned, and I took my hands away quickly. I tried to straighten his collar, though it needed no straightening – it could end this conversation somehow. I was readying him to go and he would go soon. He wouldn't be as upset as he claimed.

"I know you are. I'm flattered that you do that..." A thought reached him just as his sentence trailed. _"...But I give you infinite time,_" rose from under his breath. "You take advantage of very little of it. And I don't believe you're satisfied." My hands dropped down the front of him.

"You're being a little impractical… don't you think? There's only so much I can do."

"I told you I'd help you."

I didn't feel like asking how. I didn't want to know the plans, if there were any. I preferred trying to stay in that carefree fantasy world; hide there, really, from him. I wondered why we couldn't keep at our original pace… why we couldn't have a conversation anymore that didn't become about him needing more time from me.

"You make me feel I'm in too deep when you shy away from me like that." I felt the pressure in that statement as his face tilted and the sharp front of his mask reached my temple. I laughed nervously and looked up. "You're in too deep? Then what am I?"

"...Not deep enough."

Just as he said it, there was a rumble downstairs. I tensed up with instant familiarity to that sound and pulled back, but Erik didn't look the least on edge. "You're fast. You can head out the door before they see you."

He wasn't as frantic as me, so though I used most of my strength to yank at his arm, I bounced back like a rubber band. But he didn't smile; he didn't seem to focus on anything. He strode down the stairs and across the entryway seeming a little blank, disappointed maybe, but, in his last few seconds, his hand touched my cheek like it was made of glass, and he kissed my forehead as if there was nothing to be afraid of. I locked the door and ran away from it as soon as it was between us, then hurried for the garage to greet, or rather distract, my parents. He probably didn't need the help, but I had my own nerves to settle.

* * *

**Erik  
****Think ****of ****a ****day ****when**** I**** don't ****hurry ****anywhere.**** Not**** away**** from**** you,**** not ****towards ****you.**** I'm**** always**** with ****you.****  
****Jan**** 13,**** 8:44****pm**

* * *

Ten minutes after the house was no longer mine, I read his text, I imagined the air stiffening his clothes once again, and I came upstairs. I stood where he was standing, and I looked at myself in the mirror. I repeated, under my breath, "I'm unhappy without you," several times. Then, "I don't have a home besides you." I said it into my eyes, and I imagined loving the eyes. I wondered where he was going. I wondered if he was waiting for me to answer the text as he returned somewhere he didn't want to be.

He made me guilty.

I shouldn't have been surprised – he was overpowering my senses with the soul of that character and I reacted accordingly, because I had loved the real Erik. I'd read him struggle the same sad reality that she wouldn't be coming back right away when he let her go, or maybe not at all. I knew she was the only thing he could think about, especially there, deep in that world where the silence seems loud in your ears because you hear nothing else to compare it to…

He was so wrong if he thought he should worry I didn't adore him just because I had to send him away. If there were no parents, he would have stayed and I would've done anything for him. And he would have slept in my bed, he would have felt my arms, he would have been worshipped again.

I covered my face and turned away. The bathroom – my very own – and its colors, it's peach and purple towels, the jewelry box, the flower pins – all mine – didn't seem like what he dreamed for me. I almost felt… he didn't want me to have anything, so that I wouldn't be distracted, so that my roots came up so easily for him and his desires. He wanted us both to be lost and gripping to each other. Instead, he gripped to me as I orbited a bigger thing and… he couldn't quite say directly yet that I should do him a great favor: plunge into nothingness. Orbit him, and him alone. Breathe him, as he breathed me.

He didn't notice anything in my house besides me; I was the only thing that mattered and he couldn't have me. I mean, not at that moment.

But why did I feel guilty about something that wasn't my fault? He sounded disconnected from reality itself, but I wanted to please him still. Maybe I felt bad it couldn't be my fault, so that it was within my control. Maybe there was a way to quit. I mean, my job. Maybe I would explain I didn't like it there anymore. Maybe I'd pretend to stay after, maybe I'd go straight to the theater every day.

I needed to stop having these thoughts. I had to reason a little for the both of us.

* * *

Did I want to read the black book? I had to stop having these thoughts. I had to stop having these thoughts. _I had to stop having these thoughts_, but that book was staring me in the face, at the edge of my bed. A flower clip sat atop the cover, and a pen, which I didn't recognize, with a clear holder and purple ink. The flower wasn't mine, either.

I raised the gifts and held them softly to my chest, but I knew after that book opened, there would be no winding down. I had to make contact with the darkness, and there would be no break from darkness until dawn. Accepting the inevitability of feeling twice as worse, I crawled into bed. I put the pin and the flower on my bed stand, just above the drawer where his note from Christmas morning was still hidden.

He'd said there was a lot to read. I went looking for those new pages and found them quite easily behind everything we had written so far, but more importantly, they were with a scrawl that seemed so hurried. I hadn't yet tried to focus, but I saw the last word of the first sentence,** "miserable,"** and it made me lay my head down on my pillow and savor one last moment free of confronting that word that had followed us since our grand collision. I curled up, took my eyes off the wall in front of me, and read.


	42. Chapter 42 Said & Unsaid

**HE'S ( ) THERE  
**Chapter 42 – Said & Unsaid

**"You've given me the best way I can feel so miserable. It was only a year ago, when I realized some things can't be eliminated from the experience of life, and when I did, a philosophy that acknowledged **_**every**_**thing brought back my drive to do **_**some**_**thing. There is nothing to do about pain. I can't stop disappointing people, I can't stop making them angry, and I can't stop fighting. I'm in constant combat. You have no idea.**

**It was so hard to be truly mad at you when we fought, because our fights were so tame. I could see you trembling and I would've been excited if you'd hit me. You don't know what it's like to really hate me or what I live for. You couldn't possibly look in my eyes with even half the amount of contempt as the real hater does. I had to live with those, and still do, but I used to let them be much closer to me, close enough that I was rotting on the inside. Nothing was ever good enough for them, and neither was it for me, because I wanted none of it. I saw my life as a trunk full of things I wanted to dump upside down; I wanted rip out every last content. I wanted to gut the thing. I wanted to batter it to splinters. I can't seem to get enough of destruction. Do you like my vague metaphors? I have to be this way with you now – someday I promise you'll know details. I don't know that the day exists yet, and it's far away, but you have my promise.**

**I was always, always angry, but you started to accompany me, in my head. I saw you every time I wanted to pull myself inside out. I've never wanted to kill myself, but I wished I could cease existing until, as I said, you kept appearing. You say you don't fix me, but I've never experienced it before, wanting to exist so badly. Wanting absolute presence and sureness of that presence. I desire your time because I'm not finding myself occupied. If I could do everything for you, then whenever I hurt, I could be sure it was **_**for **_**you. I could turn the inevitable into a declaration. I know this now from experience, but I wouldn't have been convinced in the past that something so despicable, which had followed me for years, so ugly and, almost, with a conscience of its own which hates warmth in a person's soul, which sees it as an invasion, which never tires, which will kill warmth even if it bends all rules of the universe… that something such as that could be transformed into a servant for beauty. I've outsmarted it. I've bent it backwards, into itself, and now I use it for you. No one else will suffer this way to give you everything. No one else appreciates suffering, uses it like currency, and has an unlimited supply. I really would give you everything. I'd do whatever you wanted me to because I don't have limits. The me who did died some time ago because he was useless. He was ready not to exist. **

**But your Erik wants to be here.**

**What a way to be before I lose at living, with a beautiful girl who sees me as the most important thing ever. Erik's work is scarcely done before it's over. You may decide you don't love him. But it was his best decision, as he had you for a while when he could've had you not at all. I'm a true optimist, maybe. We're here to take chances that can go horribly wrong. You and I, no matter where we end up, will have the same nothingness when we're dead. I had to be a little dead before I realized I could try for you. My head was swirling that night. Don't you know about Erik? Love, even the illusion of love, which comforts others, makes his stomach turn, as mine does just writing. I can only imagine how much more violently yours does at the thought of it. You make me sick with admiration. If you find yourself feeling similarly, don't stay where you are. You can come to me, and we can work out what is happening to us. Stop leaving so early. Why do you go? You have answers, but I can't remember them. You use the same ones, you're very sure about it, but I can't remember them. **

There was more, most definitely more and more, and more… but I stopped. I wanted to know ahead how much more of this there'd be, so I flipped and flipped, and the pages were numerous. I sat up and cradled my forehead in my hands, not sure if I was exhilarated by the same kind of flattering passion I had noticed in his recent messages, or if passion was about to eat me whole and I was just at the mouth of it.

"Lily?" I heard my mom through the door. The nerves in my stomach radiated, but I didn't answer. "Are you putting away the dishes, or what?" She walked away and a breath expelled that I didn't know I was holding. I glanced at the book and went to open my window, then pressed my hands around my face and gazed down into the yard, with shadows like ink blots. I was sure now, every time I ever thought I saw something, it was no imagination at work, but I couldn't be a hypocrite at this point. Isn't this what I wanted?

* * *

On Sunday, I read more.

"**You very much like to omit certain words. You back-peddle and fix your hair and all kinds of silly things that a girl does when she's overwhelmed by reality. I'm very certain we have the same one. You know you're addicted to me, and further, that I'm addicted to you, but you pretend it's not inevitable. That we turn away, that doors close, that somehow this is control over what controls you. You keep your heart in a cage when you must know a determined person could flatten it instantaneously. It was common practice of magicians with their birds, did you know? You're not protecting it. It's already mine. You want it to be. But, while your transparency is reassuring, what I find reminds me what started any of this remains, to you, untaught. **

**It can't be done further, this appreciation for our world, until I see you face to face with yourself. My circumstance is that I hate everything but you. Your circumstance is that you want a person like me to give you undivided love. You want attention for what you do. You write in your closet. Have you forgotten you told me that? But you want attention, almost as much as a narcissist, but I wouldn't call you a narcissist because it's not your fault you know you should be heard, and read, and known. I support everything you're too afraid to say. Remember: when you're honest, you're perfect.**

* * *

"She's coming around, a little bit," Giry told me. We were going to the movies on Tuesday night. She caught me very last minute and said she had free time and a guilty conscience, and I, for some reason, was overflowing with enthusiasm to see her, almost desperation, so much that I left all of my homework on the desk. There was something about finding a female face at the door, and hers specifically, with her round pale cheeks and gentle grey eyes, that made a slightly tense feeling in my stomach subside. I didn't hide her from anyone; she showed up in her big black coat and boots, leaned into the entrance room, and waved at my dad. They thought I'd made such a friend in her, but Mom still asked about Mariam.

"So is she talking to you?" I asked, watching the passing shapes outside the car as we drove.

"Mostly. The subjects aren't that deep. We compared answers on our take-home quizzes yesterday. She's asked me a few questions about looks Jeffrey gave her, but I've said it a million times already that he probably likes her. She won't take it for an answer."

"Girls tend to do that… Sometimes it's kind of unbelievable," I muttered.

"Well… sometimes it's slapping you right in the face," she finished. I crossed my arms and sort of smiled. "How's Erik?" My clutch grew a little tighter.

"He's… doing alright."

"Anything interesting happen?"

What could I say? That on the same night she suggested he stop being anonymous, we…

"He stopped by my house the other day, with a cut down his leg, and he wouldn't tell me what happened, besides that he encountered someone who _wasn't_-" I stopped and blinked a mess of times. "Very smart, apparently…"

"Why's that?" She calmly asked while making a turn towards the mall parking lot.

"I don't know. He probably retaliated." God, this conversation felt awkward. "I think he's trying to scare me or something, and make me think he's fending off all these-… I don't really know." She glanced at me with her face curled up on one side, like she was trying her absolute best to make sense of my responses, none of which were completed.

By then, we were slowly moving down the rows of the parking lot. The colored lights were hitting my face, while Giry's hair had a red lining. She caught me admiring her and slowed the car. "I know I've been a little AWOL…" she tried to comfort me, as it seemed she thought I needed it for some reason.

"It's okay. I've had hardly any time myself."

"School, spending it with him…?"

"Everything. It's getting a little ridiculous! And Shorts 7 is right around the corner! I've decided to do enough work this week to have a C- in math and then I'm stopping the tutoring."

"Heh, you should just come back to easy-math. We could sit in lab together and talk the whole time."

"I'd love that," I said honestly. It would've made mornings so much easier. She squeezed the car into a narrow space in front of hedges and eyed herself in the mirror.

"Yeah, if the rest of my classes weren't so easy, I'd be royally screwed, up the ass, twice," she continued, though I'd never heard her say something like that before. "I could take my AP homework back by wheel barrel. I also have five scholarship applications due mid-February. I think during spring break, I'm just going to collapse for a week."

I did a lot of smiling, and she had a lot to say. We walked towards the glow of the theater front and she told me all about her quest for the right art school and how her parents were buying her a new camera for a graduation present. _She was leaving_. I hardly knew her, either, yet some part of me lamented that I never would so well, even though we'd had our times here and she was one of two who knew about something she could never guess was so serious.

I'd spent over a week away from her, and glad about it, because she couldn't ask about what I'd decided to do, but when she was right in front of me, I had an urge to tell her everything, assuming she _knew everything_ even though she was just a year older than me. She was Giry, to me; a ballet mistress in clunky, buckled boots that made her almost half a head taller than me; Meg's mother, who met her in class, but would know just the way to bring her back to me; and, maybe, the Phantom's friend, who had no idea who he was individually, but knew who _everyone_ was somehow.

I knew she was none of it, but my life was a strange thing. I pretended because anything was better than feeling there was nothing to which I could hold on.

I looked up to her and wanted to say something. I had to laugh perfunctorily when she suggested some stupid movie none of us would ever watch willingly. The ticket-guy gave me a thoroughly friendly look before handing back our stubs, and we stood in line for a small slurpy, to share. "To think, we're sharing a small," she commented. I shook my head and replied: "It's insanity."

During all the previews, two guys seemed to be heading towards us. I lowered my head, figuring they were going to make themselves comfortable just to our side and spoil the whole movie with idiotic commentary. (I guess that's a lousy assumption to make out of nowhere, but it had experience behind it.) Instead, they tentatively approached us on my side, and asked for "Paully". She seemed thrilled. I couldn't stop remembering the irony of what happened with her and what would soon transpire with Erik. It was a boy she'd liked for a little while but they were only friends. They hadn't had time to hang out at all. He remarked, "that's okay, we'll make time."

At the end of the movie, I saw Giry's eyes searching for him somewhere within the mess of people, but he'd left. I was turning my phone on and she was too lazy to get up, so we stayed at the top center seats, appreciating the dim vastness of the room. "I'd give it a B+," she finally decided.

"Really? I thought it was A-worthy." I opened up my phone when its first message appeared.

_**"Where have you gone to?..."**_

I closed it and resumed. "Truthfully, it kind of gave me a headache towards the end, but still."

"I reserve A's for movies that don't make me tired," she said, grinning with her face upturned and her eyes closed.

"I think it's because I'm starving, actually. …Are you hungry?"

"Ravenous. Let's go to Shari's or something."

On the way there, I texted Erik and told him _"movie and dinner with Giry,"_ and he gave me an odd response several minutes later: _**"Can we trust that one?"**_ I suppose it meant we could no longer trust Meg.

Giry was talking but I began to hear a meaningless spray of words as I closed the phone in my lap. I'd been very obedient earlier. He asked that I forward the email Meg sent to me that I'd mentioned last I saw him. At the time, he didn't seem interested in it, but he changed his mind, I guess. I'd asked why he wanted to read it. He said he was "curious" what she said to me. I told him it was nothing too different. He said he wasn't expecting to be surprised. I said it wasn't worth it. He said "but it is." I was tired and running out of excuses, so I went to the study and sent it, just before Giry invited me out.

She paused when my gaze seemed to be out of focus, and I apologized. "Sorry. Just a moment." I flipped open the phone again and typed _"last I checked."_ Giry stopped talking. He texted again before I'd even had time to start a new conversation.

"_**I replied to your email. I thought you'd answer. I'm very close, if you are where I think you are."**_

I caught my reflection in the window, tilted, my phone glowing on my cheek. I didn't know if he meant close to the movie theater or not. Giry was giving me enough privacy that I knew she knew I was talking to him.

"_I'm sorry that I missed it. Should I call you later?"_

I redirected my attention to Giry. "Just wondering what I'm doing," I explained." Her soft laughter was interrupted by a beep.

"You should ask what _he's_ doing," she said. I smiled and looked down.

"_**Then where are you? I'll wait for you."**_

I shook my head 'no', then realized I had done it. "What?" Giry asked. It was almost about to roll off my tongue, "he's being a little abrasive", but I swallowed it back down. I decided I wouldn't answer his message, stuffed the phone in my purse, and rolled my eyes.

"He's just being… himself." She'd stopped us in front of the restaurant and finally opened her door, taking my answer as good enough. "He's very good at it…" I trailed, doing just the same, but my eyes noted every shadow as we walked towards the doors. I don't remember the details between watching for those shadows and Giry and I sitting at a booth with the menus in front of us. For a minute or two, I was thinking of how I might say something to her about our situation while acknowledging there was something colorful in front of me with a lot of words. Luckily, I didn't have to instigate the conversation entirely. From behind the menu, I heard her say:

"You're being awfully quiet, kiddo." I flattened the menu.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I replied.

"What's going on?" Her question ended with a waitress appearing at my side with a voice much louder than I was prepared for. Some black tea for me, and Giry wanted a coke. As soon as we were alone, her focus was very direct. She had nothing before her but her own hands, with fingers crossed and all her rings. There was a big difference between Erik and her, however. Her gaze invited; his extracted. I took my time, raised my hand to my mouth, and pushed my lower lip in just enough to nibble on it. "Is he acting strange?"

"That's nothing new, is it?"

"It's new if you want it to be," she said back, quickly, her lips red, perfect, but very straight.

"Yeah, it is," I said to my lap. "I may have 'egged' him a bit too far."

"What'd you do?"

I didn't want to say. I'd given him far more than was socially acceptable. I didn't regret it, but out of context, it seemed I should. Luckily, my answer didn't need to be too specific. "I became Christine." She smiled, but I got right to it. "He wants to have a real relationship with me... But it's not the way that you think." She thought about it a moment, glanced out the window, then played with her bracelet.

"What happened about finding out who he is?"

"Well... It's a little complicated." We both shared a moment of amusement, but she looked down to her hands and rubbed her thumb over the grooves of one of her rings, and said very sternly:

"Ah, but Lily… that's proof things have gone on long enough. You don't want it to get more complicated. That's what we're talking about, isn't it?"

For a moment, my brow tensed up, but I leaned back in my seat and my forehead grew smooth under my hand. My fingers scrunched into my hair. I thought of combing his, of that look of utter detachment in his face when I was trying to rush him out of the house. He was overboard, certainly, but what else explained this see-saw of discomfort and compassion? I had to be holding on to him all this time, rocking back and forth over the railing. There was a reason Meg and I weren't talking.

"I really wish I could tell you why I can't do what you think I should," I answered. The drinks arrived some time during my musing, but neither of us seemed to notice. Then another breath gave her the means to assert quite surely:

"I trust you have a very good reason."

"What can you imagine… the reason to be?"

She seemed to seriously consider it a moment. "Maybe because he's at his best right now and you don't want to scare him away with reality. You're having too much fun. Maybe you hope he'll wind down and want to talk about this on his own. Hell, if I were someone's Christine, I can understand the appeal."

"That's not quite it," I uttered, and I found in my tone an urging for her to try again; to try as many times as she needed to get it right. To my dismay, she seemed to have only one answer prepared. "It's more to do with him, let's put it that way. It's more about how he might interpret it if I said something."

"He's not ready?"

"Ready for what?" I prodded.

"To reveal who he is."

"But he would ask, _'for what'._" I explained, and she knit her brow. "Or better yet, he would turn it around and ask _me_ if I was ready. He's always throwing something new at me – always commanding my attention, trying to see that I'm reacting accordingly, reconfiguring what I say and making sure whether I understand it, as if maybe I don't really understand anything. It's like a tennis match." She'd gone still as a statue and I sat up straight, smiling almost humorlessly. "Welcome to my world," I finished, _where words are tennis balls." _I was smiling to myself, stewing with frustration, when she reached for my hand.

"I know what you're talking about." My eyes rose from her hand to her face. "You can't let it get more complicated, Lily. You have to be the simple one. If he doesn't respect what you want, then having a real relationship just isn't possible."

I lowered my head at a loss. I wasn't being clear, and I knew it. But the waitress came back, we made our orders, and I knew I couldn't have an appetite if we talked about this during dinner, so conversation returned to normal. Maybe it was better not to tell her what I really wanted out of this relationship. I didn't think I wanted to see her face if I told her a real relationship already existed to me, and it stood by its own rules. I didn't yet recognize insanity, even as I worried what his next message would be, and as I worried what else was written but unread in that book underneath my pillow.

More messages came as she was dropping me off. **"I've waited for you, my Christine." **I got out of the car and looked around, but Giry spoke my name.

"What?" I guess I'd snapped it. She reserved her comment for just a moment and replaced it with an expression all but suddenly fallen into concern.

"For a while, you've really reminded me of her," she said. I knew, later, that it was exactly what she said, because I wrote it down as soon as I was inside.

"Who?" And after I said it, my eyes darted from shadow to shadow once again.

"Christine. …Of course." She turned her face to her lap.

"…Is that good?" I wondered aloud. With Erik, infinitely good. With Giry, I didn't know.

"Well truthfully, I always imagine her looking worried." She paused. "You seemed so worried for a second."

I was out of words the entire time. I'd begun two or three sentences in my head that were hardly concrete before she took a deep breath and glanced toward the road. "Well, this was nice. We really need to do it more often. You should just bother me and then I'll remember to find the time, for anything. Anything you want to talk about, or-"

"I don't like bothering people," I explained, grinning. "You should get online more often. There's my bother for now."

"Right. I'll do that." Feeling closure, I closed the passenger door. Her car stayed where it was, but I began to walk at a snail's pace; I got caught up squinting at the black trees across the street. Then gradually it came to my attention she was rolling along beside me. The window rolled down and I stopped with my arms crossed.

"He's not there, Lily. He's at the theater."

I wrote this down too. She gave me a smile meant to reassure, and her car went off into the night. I entered the house with my curiosity now of people rather than shadows.


	43. Chapter 43 - Sleep

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: ****Hi, everyone. Please please pleeeease forgive me if I didn't respond to your reviews or messages. I had one of the busiest terms of my life and I'm about to enter my last full one. Then comes graduation, then a summer internship and 2-week thing, won't get into it... My life's about to actually get somewhere, maybe, and one of my goals for this year was to have an actual first draft of this story. Since Script Frenzy month is a day away, instead of doing a script, I'm writing 5 plotted chapters leading up to one I already wrote, which is awfully dramatic (that's why I wrote it ahead of time; because it was just begging to be explored.) Which means in April there will be updates! Starting with this one. **

**I know how horrible I am about updating frequently, I just hope that because of it I haven't lost most of the wonderful readers who used to keep track of me. I've missed you too, believe it or not. And even if we haven't talked for a while, please run it past me if you're still reading and still enjoying. I like to have people in mind while I'm holing up with my laptop, tick-ticking away and trying to come up with a decent Phantom story.**

**I tweaked chapter 42, by the way, so you might want to skim that one and make sure you're up to speed before reading this one. **

* * *

**HE'S ( ) THERE**

Chapter 43 – Sleep

I wrote down what Giry said and then went straight to call him. I locked my bedroom door and curled up in bed, waiting, wondering why there had been six, seven, eight rings. An automated message prompted me to leave him voicemail, but I hanged up.

After ten minutes or so, I decided to take the bath I very much needed, and I sunk down into the heat with a great inner sigh. There was enough to worry about – work Thursday through Saturday, two chapters I should have read tonight for the Great Gatsby, a practice sheet from Mr. Darelle before I retook the last quiz that I would have to do during lunch… As usual, Erik was the strange priority.

I was mulling it over as the water ran, hugging myself a little and covered in goose bumps. Should I have taken more kindly to him? Should I not have entered the house at all and went straight to the theater? I had fallen into guilt, even, of the illogical kind.

But then he called back. My cellphone sitting on my towel began to ring just before I was going to submerge my head and lie beneath the water as long as I could. I dried my hands and answered both in a very short moment.

"Hi," I said and followed with a heavy exhale.

"You called me."

"Yes? I told you I would. I was sorry that you caught me at a bad time."

"And you're home now."

"Yes. Where are you?"

"Still within possibility…"

"Giry told me you were at the theater. How did she know?" I knew he could contact her, but I wanted him to admit it himself.

"I told her."

"You can message her, then."

"I can message anyone."

I knew the short answers. He spoke little when he was bothered. "Is she a friend of yours now?"

"No."

"Then… You were messaging us both. Is there something important?"

" Is it important to want to see you?" I fumbled for an answer. _"…I hope so,"_ he added, softly.

"Yes, it…" My voice's volume began to drop as I answered, "it's always important, and you know that." I was looking to where he was once standing. I could practically see us having the conversation there, with my head against his back. "I just need to get through this week in one piece. I have things I need to catch up on before I go to bed."

"Then I would hate to impose on you. It was my mistake." I lowered my head into my freehand.

" It's fine… I-I can see you tomorrow or something. It's my only day off. In the meantime, stay off rooftops. And don't walk down any dark alleys…" Finally, he showed some hint of enjoyment for the conversation, and the desperation began to endear me, almost. "And don't freeze to death... Oh, and find some way to sleep." For a split-second, I was about to say "I love you," but I was caught up in a moment where one desired to say something affectionate and the three words came first even though there was no way to mean it.

I took a deep breath. The bathtub was a really bad place to decide you didn't want to hang up. "Well, goodnight."

"...Goodnight."

Click.

* * *

**"People don't give a damn, where I come from. They don't care about your future, or their own. They don't have any sympathy; they just want to take from you. Anyone could be lying to you, stealing from you, or waiting for the ideal time to step on you to be a little higher. I'm always tense and my insides burn. Apparently, I'm sensitive. In my world, you never let on that you're tense, or that you burn, unless you aim to intimidate someone. They don't like girls, where I'm from. Girls are sex. You don't have real conversations with them, and no one would believe that they cared as much as they said.**

**I hope that can be some context for my amusement when you tell me you're worried about me. I know everyone besides you is full of shit. They're scared of girls, and they're scared of themselves. They're scared of feeling and scared of hurting. Girls make them feel and hurt, and they cannot find the beauty in that. It's too bad fear is contagious, and I had to have these fears at one time. **

**I played many games during that time, but it was an especially fun one to pretend I didn't know why you didn't bother me. I got to be great at it: feeling like a fool, following you, wondering if I could get close enough for you to interact with me in some small way, or just touch me by accident casually as ever, without knowing that's a strange thought, rest assured: it never happened. Only much later would you touch me, when I slammed the door and you took my arms for guidance, and I had to tell you as authoritatively as possible that you hadn't followed my rules. It was hard to keep a straight face. You touched me and I sensed the wonder I had all that time wanted to give to you. I knew I hadn't made a mistake yet.**

**We have something in common here; we're distracted by tangents. Point: I wasn't always this way, Christine. I was afraid of all things I now find most comforting, just as you know scary things protect you and are misunderstood. Beauty, and admiring it, following it, wanting to be it, were misunderstood by me, until finally, I dared to look beauty in the face. Of course, I still burn, but it's a much better view. I'm laughing. I don't know if we have the same sense of humor, but that's fine. **

**There isn't anything special about triumph unless, until the very moment it was achieved, you were terrified. You know all about that, Christine, because you're an actress, so I'm not explaining it further, but here is the bottom line: I know you're with me so far, but you're wincing all the way. Tell me it's because you expect greatness, and that I'm scaring you because triumph can be a scary thing, as is love, as is all coming to one who dreamed but never expected. Please tell me you will grow to enjoy expecting your dreams."**

* * *

I'd really put it all on pause since Saturday night, refused to contemplate it too much, but that night I had a suffocating feeling come over me that didn't allow me to sleep once I'd finished my reading and tucked myself in. I saw the numbers on my clock climb from one, to two, to three, and all the while the silhouette of the monkey music box faced my bed and stared.

* * *

Shorts 7 was announced officially this week, and premiering on Valentine's Day. After sitting through Science like a zombie, I found the list of the skits and characters available on the choir room doors, and Mrs. Vardega began class by addressing the "double-dippers": those who were also permitted in stage crew that semester and who would need to run it past her if they were performing as well. I was taking notes for that – after all, it was my instinct to sign up for anything.

"Of course you can sign up, Lily," Mrs. Vardega said, "and I think you'll like the line-up this time. One of the skits has a vampire in it – hmm?" Then I gave her a really awkward smile. "What, it was you who liked vampires, right?" Another classmate of mine was waiting around to talk to her while everyone else filed out after class, but I said "sure." Who doesn't?

And then she asked me: could I bring back my dress in a week? For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about until the only dress I could imagine giving to her came to mind, and before any personal reaction could kick in, I acted like nothing was more right than returning it. I'd had it since Halloween, after all, and there'd been no use for it since then, after all. I'd just forgotten...

We were all smiles, but I cut the acting job as soon as I had closed the choir room door behind me. The day was only going to continue getting more complicated from here.

I didn't know how to deal with the grief of losing a dress I had known from the beginning wasn't mine besides alerting the person who had appreciated it most, as soon as I could, and he didn't miss a beat texting me first, as he usually did around this time. I was snailing along down the hall trying to type him a message, but I knew I'd suddenly heard Mariam shout "come with me!"and I just froze, trying to find her, assuming I had something to do with it. She was passing with Jeffrey on her tail. He got so close behind her, he was at risk of being smacked by her ponytail. But she saw me, just staring like a goddamn idiot, and the smile on her face came right off. She grabbed his hand, and did what I did just a few minutes ago: acted like no pang of awareness had come over her, no problem was apparent... She had places to go and a boy who hadn't noticed me at all because she had bewitched him.

I suppose a friend should be happy about something like that, but Irrational Lily, who already wanted to cry and was running on four hours of sleep, felt she wasn't welcome to be happy about it, being that this person had decided they were better off split. Because she skipped over being happy for her, she suddenly felt a rock fall into her stomach. Her brain seemed to be registering it as if neither of she nor her had ever had someone before – like there was no Erik – and that Mariam had gone and done the impossible, officially. Legitimately. No one was obsessed with her; she snagged 'em.

I looked down to my phone, but then back down the hall. They were gone, and surely Mariam would not be heading back this way now.

Whatever. Nevermind it.

I sent him the news and walked into Mr. Darelle's room. There's no telling if my redo of the quiz was any improvement.

* * *

I was hurrying on the way out of Humanities. Once Erik knew about the dress, it occurred to him that I'd told him I'd visit today; he told me he could "rectify the situation", and there was no way out of it no matter how much I wanted to go home and nurse the headache I had acquired after a long day. It was either after school when I could give a decent excuse, or never.

In the process of getting to him right away, I blew off Dana, or it felt like it. I could tell she wanted to talk after class and maybe hang around out front while her bus was coming, but I was a poor conversationalist, even though I liked her a great deal.

The sun was finally out after what seemed like a month of hibernation, and though the trees along the path to the theater were so dense that the entire road was in shadows, the light cut into the attic, which I entered grumpy and exhausted, complaining about the spiral stairs and dropping my bag right on the spot. Erik was leaning against the wardrobe for some reason, with a full standing mirror on its other side, and the first thing he said was an apology. I gathered my eye-sockets in my hands and said:

"Eghhgh'it's not a huge deal... It's not like they need your mask back."

"No, but that dress was very flattering on you. It seemed to be yours." I removed my hand.

"No – tell me I looked horrible in it so I can give it back without feeling bad—"

"—It was a disaster."

I smiled and closed the door, but when I saw him smiling back, I couldn't help but sigh. "We lie to each other far too often for me to take that as a proper insult."

"You look horrible in everything, to be honest."

"Stop that! You know I don't like it when you're too nice to me."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm about to become a real asshole. Come over here." I scrunched up my shoulders, and as I came forward he opened the wardrobe. The first thing that came to my attention was a wooden box sitting on a shelf inside.

"Is that yours?"

"It _was_ until just now."

"How thoughtful of you! I've always wanted a wooden box," I said. Erik tightened his lips.

"Open it," he corrected, faking agitation. I made sure to draw it out as long as I could, taking a great sigh and then curling my fingers around the knob of the lid. Inside were all sorts of hair pieces, and they looked ancient. There were bows, flowers, and pearls. Everything once white was ivory, and all ribbon was soft and silky. I picked up a flower clip with a diamond center and just played with the fabric, sure already that I had to keep it. "You know how many are in there?" He asked. I gave myself a free hand and reached in to the depth of the box. "52."

"Where did you get these?"

"I couldn't really tell you that. It's a collection I started quite a while ago. I hadn't even planned to give them to you today, but on the occasion of losing that dress, I wanted you to have something you'd never have to give back."

I bit my lip and finally leaned forward to kiss him, still with the ivory flower in my hand between us. He knew exactly what I had in mind and reached for the clip already in my hear before our lips had even parted. He drew it out carefully and gestured towards the mirror, where I tried on the flower. I'd never take the thing off again, I swore. Somehow, the lighting also made me look like I hadn't been sleep-deprived. "Do you think... perhaps... these can compete with the ones I saw the other day? Your own? Could you trade them for these?"

"I don't know. I'd rather not choose." He gave me a sharp stare until I reached for my forehead while thanking him modestly. He asked what was wrong. I told him my head was throbbing. The chair I'd had last time was sitting nearby, facing the circular window, so he pulled it out of the direct sunlight so I could take a seat.

"I'll be right back," he said, and once he left the room, I closed my eyes and lowered my head forward, lamenting that the chair didn't go up far enough for me to rest it on. For several minutes, it was silent besides the sound of my breathing, and I'd look in front of me, seeing the dust float in the sunlight, admiring the way the wood floor seemed to glow. And I felt guilty that before I had come here I was not looking forward to it. When I was less exhausted, I said to myself, I was going to pour those clips onto the floor like trick-or-treating candy, scour through, and admire every single one of them.

When someone was clearly coming back up the stairs, I closed my eyes again, hoping if I made it clear how tired I was he wouldn't have any serious conversations for me today: not about the book, nor about Mariam... He came in, paused, set something down, and a blanket fell onto my lap. I opened my eyes and he was leaning forward, admiring me, and the sunlight flooded over mask, enough to show brilliant brown rings in his eyes.

He stepped back, and when I turned to my side I saw he'd put a tray on the rug with two empty cups and a steaming metal pot. I looked him in the eye and shook my head. "This is not happening," I said.

"Yes, it is," he corrected. "You can come to terms with it while it steeps. It's darjeeling, by the way. Do you like that?"

"You planned this."

" Well I had to plan _something_... while you were _away_..." He turned towards the window with his hands behind his back, but I knew the sentiment of that comment too well.

"I've had a lot of homework. Actually, I should warn you – if I drink any of that tea, I'm bound to conk out right in front of you."

He turned around and suddenly looked quite pleased. "Is that a warning or a promise?"

I didn't know what to say, so I smiled to my lap. "Sleep is one of the best things anyone could ever do... If you want to do that in front of me, I have no objections."

"Well..." I was going to have to come up with something witty or I'd turn beet red. "Don't like it too much or you won't want me to wake up."

"I'm trying," he said before kneeling down and opening the lid of the pot. The water was dark brown, so he poured me a cup and shook his head after obliging to put in as much sugar as I wanted. The room wasn't cold, but it was crisp and dry, so when the cup warmed my hands, I savored the sensation and let the steam reach my chin.

"This isn't drugged, is it?"

"Like I would tell you." I smiled and sipped.

I was not expecting anything like this. He took his cup and sipped it by the window, just "keeping watch", and had no questions for me; only spoke in response, kept it uncomplicated, and could bear to listen to me murmur about Humanities and other such subjects of the day, not always in complete sentences once the tea's effect began to kick in. In every silence, I thought of the black book, but what was there to say about it? And why ruin a good thing? It was good enough that I lowered to the rug, kicked off my shoes, and pulled the blanket over me.

And suddenly it was much later.

My eyes were flickering open, and the sky had gone deep blue. I saw long black legs beside mine and found Erik next to me, his body stiff and straight and his eyes closed. The tea and his coat were pushed aside and my phone was under his hand. Soundlessly, I rose and scanned the room for a clock, but couldn't find one.

I didn't want to wake him; I knew how special it must have been to fall asleep there, and perhaps if I disrupted him he would never be able to get back, but there was no choice in the matter. "Erik!" I whispered harshly, clutching his arm. His eyes shot open. "I told you to wake me up at 5:00," I said, and I whipped the phone out from under his hand. It was on vibrate and read 6:32.

He didn't say anything, so I stood up and flung on my shoes. "Oh, God... I never stay after this late. I'm surprised they haven't called me. I have to go," I told him, and I was through the door within the second.

"Wait a minute!" I had to catch myself from tripping, and turned around to find him staring at me at close range. "You don't have to go."

"I do."

"Your mother thinks you're at Meg's."

"Why would she think that?"

"I told her so." I lifted up my phone and searched my sent box, finding a brief conversation from two hours ago in which I had no part. While I gaped and scanned the words, Erik's hand reached my arm. "Don't leave." As the phone closed in my hands, my eyes wandered to the place we laid on the floor, and I answered, calmly and sternly:

"You don't have the place to do that for me."

"I was afraid if you left, I wouldn't be able to sleep," he explained. The pressure came off my arm. "You said you had four hours last night. Well, I had none. I was hoping for some peace of mind. This was it."

"...I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry; I got what I needed."

"No, no, you had no right to text my mother like you were me and make me stay here, but I'm sorry that you can't sleep. I-I-I... I don't know what to tell you; I don't know what you could do to stop being this way." He just stared at me. We didn't touch anymore, I could barely look him in the eye, and all I could think was it did not seem like I loved him, and I hated that. That he could be desperate for me just to sleep and all I'd wanted to do before I came was sleep alone; almost every instinct was telling me to hurry home now and here I was in the doorway instead, in such a fickle position, throwing out apologies for his serious depression on matters he'd never bothered to tell me. I could give him no advice, no console, just this ridiculous, empty apology.

"You won't like to hear this," he warned me, "but there are no choices I can make that will let me sleep as you do. There's only a choice you can make."

A long moment passed where I could do nothing but stand there, ready to hide again, or run somewhere where this assertion couldn't find me, but you know... it just would've been irresponsible not to tell him how I honestly felt about all of this, so I marched to the chair and dropped down so I could rub my temples a little and grope my hair in my fist. The headache was mostly gone, but not entirely, and I was sure a vein was now pulsing above my eye.

He eventually closed to the stairwell door and returned to the window. I think he thought that I'd succumbed, finally, to that idea, but little did he know, his comment had submerged me in a guilt which I refused to accept just yet. I sat up and asserted to his back, "that isn't so." He faced me but with only weak interest, as if I'd simply asked him to turn around and he didn't yet know why. "There are so many things you can do for yourself, Erik, that I would never be able to do for you. You have to love yourself. You have to at least love more than me."

"I don't," he answered matter-of-factly, then focused on the window again. Then I stood up, came right to his side, drew in both his hands, and forced out:

"You know I think you're amazing, right? You don't even have to do a goddamn thing and somehow it's different from everyone else, but I know how to let you go sometimes. For your own sake. You can't _give_ me happiness from the very bottom up. It's an impossible thing to gain from others, Erik." I was about to fancy the floor opening up and swallowing me for even beginning this conversation in such a useless position, but he just looked me calmly in the eye and extracted his hand.

"How much experience do you honestly have of happiness without anyone? I want to know, because it seems to me that you always have company – more than even necessary – and that collective, positive, company is why you don't go crazy."

"Necessary? What does that even mean?"

"Answer my question first," he ordered, and the both of us sensed the hostility that would destroy a rational conversation if unrestrained. He dropped his tense shoulders. "…I'm curious."

"I can tell," I said. He wasn't going to react in any other way until I said what he wished to hear, so I found my confidence again. "Of course I need people. I'm human, just as you are, and I understand that you need them too. But it's a lot of pressure being _the only one._ I... I don't understand why you don't have anyone else, and i-it breaks my heart, frankly. What about your–" ...Parents. I averted my eyes to the window like I'd noticed something. I could see a car passing on the road up the hill. From where we were, the path between the thick forest seemed to sprout straight from the space between us, and became so black until that road. I looked away and touched his hand again. "Imagine if I never left you alone because I depended on you to breathe, and I couldn't take no for an answer if you couldn't talk to me at any time," I started.

"I imagine that every day, and it remains in my imagination."

"…_Why_ would you want that? I don't even think I could get ahold of you if I tried to do that."

"Sometimes you call me when I've collapsed somewhere. Because I couldn't sleep."

"Y-You need to see a doctor," I sputtered, but he had to keep away a quiet laugh.

"You just have no idea."

"At least I'm trying." Whatever smile he had disappeared.

"Your patience is saintly, and it's one of the reasons I need you, and you don't notice it. I don't know what you expect to accomplish by challenging me." I stiffened.

"What _can_ I accomplish?! It's confusing. I feel like I already depend on you, but you _somehow_ make me feel like I'm aloof. _Hardly. I_ _do_ depend on you for support and for attention, and it does make me happier to see you... You have no idea. But dependence to the extent you take it scares me."

"What hasn't, so far?" He wondered.

"Fear doesn't always mean something exhilarating and fantastic is going to happen, Erik. I would know it, and you know I know it: I've experienced all kinds of fear, being around you. I know when fear is just fear. Or when I'm about to see something awful, like a person with a wonderful imagination... who hates themselves..."

"Then you do not think," he began, mechanically, "that it's beautiful to be dependent on each other."

"That question is too vague," I told him, watching his fingers weave in and out of each other now, never quite in a satisfactory place. "It's beautiful until people are damaged by it because they needed something_ too much. _Dependency can blind people, and in the worst cases, make them settle, make them think they deserve to be mistreated." He put away his hands very suddenly and straightened himself. I saw his eyes and closed our distance with haste. "You're not mistreating me. That's made this situation even harder to figure out."

"Are you mistreating me? You make us sound so dysfunctional."

I said "no, I'm not mistreating you," half-heartedly, "but, it feels like it when I have to say no to you all the time. And I thought we _were_ dysfunctional. I thought you made it clear you knew how much this could disrupt everything, and that we had to be careful about it.

"I thought it was life that disrupted you from me, and you didn't want that anymore. That's what I started to feel; that's why I was so honest with you. I thought I'd figured out what you wanted."

This time I laughed, albeit as humorlessly was possible. "What I want doesn't always make any sense! I mean, I have to be able to admit that."

"Then are you settling right now?"My eyes were as far removed from his as I could maintain, but he took my hands and tried to see them anyway.

"We have to know what we can give each other and what we can't," I said to the floor.

"You said dependency blinds people, makes them complacent, make them settle. Maybe a fool would go to such lengths as I have to _settle_, to be _damaged _by someone who cannot be what I need them to be, but that's not you, and I'm not a fool."

"But you're unhappy without me, and you shouldn't be."

"Do you think I'm a fool, or do you think I'm in love with you? Would it be okay to be dependent on you if I were in love with you? Maybe that's what you're afraid of."

If I could think clearly enough, I would've been able to find the words to tell him I was afraid because I _didn't_ settle – because we were intoxicated with the fumes of attraction, bound to come down hard and fast, and the return from weightlessness would make me sick, and I was already getting there. But we were too close.

"Are you settling for me?" He asked again, restraining his voice, taking a moment, even, to glance down to the darkness beyond the glass.

"No," I answered, and I wrapped my arms around him, so much guilt breaking me down, making it impossible to break free from the kisses reaching my neck.

Another grand collision shook me down before I could find a place to see the truth. I'd reached a record tonight in finding my voice, and grappling for control, and then fucking toppled.

If you were thinking that that didn't make any sense: congratulations – you were paying attention. Welcome to my relationship.


	44. Chapter 44 - Claustrophobia

**Author's Note: I'm still wondering where most of you went. I hope you're not gone forever, but it's hard to tell. :)**

* * *

**HE'S ( ) THERE  
**Chapter 44 – Claustrophobia

From there, a month went by in which a number of surrenders were made that I thought were going to satisfy Erik. I canceled math tutoring, I stayed after "to work on projects" or "hang with friends", I slept over "at Paulina's" every Friday, and even called in sick a couple times so I could spend almost the whole day in the dim basement floor of the theater, talking with him or, well, imagine it. Other times, we'd get some fresh air in the woods, and even head back to my house so I could eat and Erik could survey everything we possessed.

He treated the house like a museum whenever he visited. He wanted to know where everything was, what my parents were like, how I sneaked out, and sometimes he'd spend a minute or two staring down the hall while I was rummaging through the fridge. I honestly wasn't bothering to make conjectures about the behavior, because he always had that look in his eye, like something was being scrutinized under them, and he was extracting all of its functions and purposes. Whatever functions he had assigned to my house, I knew it would sound awfully accusatory to ask why he cared so much unless I did it playfully and with seeming distraction. He just responded the way he usually did when I asked why he had so many questions: "there is nothing that isn't interesting about you."

I don't know how we managed to find the line between obsessive love and banter, but it was like purgatory. He played the piano at the stage a lot, endless songs, or songs that went on for 10 minutes, or maybe they were parts of songs he chose to play over and over again. When he was watching his own fingers, he looked like he was thinking of destroying the piano. Then he'd sit back on the bench and suddenly anger was flipped upside down and falling like a startling wave of admiration on me. For everyone else in the world, time like this spent together was just maintenance of a normal relationship, but for he and I, it was a transient state whose pending way of being was unknown to either of us, especially when he looked at me like that.

Words remained double-edged, and actions had their shadows. I ignored lots of things, like remarks about being sick of the theater and complaints about the stuffiness of my little neighborhood, and the way I would be ignored for the rest of the night if I rejected to see him. My mind knew something my heart and my hormones were ignoring for the time being. They were too interested in satisfaction to resist, but I knew better, deep down, that relationships weren't supposed to be quite like this. The easy moments, when he was bringing me tea in the "observatory", when sunlight filled his eyes and turned them a glowing brown, when he fell asleep with my hand still loose around his fingers... they subscribed me to the complications.

* * *

If there wasn't enough PDA at school already, Valentine's Day reminded everyone that there were hands to be held, faces to be sucked, and asses to be grabbed. I wasn't less bothered because I wasn't single anymore – in fact, the experience of having a lover made me feel even surer that anyone who couldn't wait until later was just showing off or not thinking at all.

My only plan and my only care that day was the play, and possibly eating lots of chocolate. Mrs. Vardega sometimes asked me if I had a boyfriend, and did so just after I'd struck my hand into the bowl of caramel hearts she brought for the stage crew. "No," I answered. Not out of spite for Erik, but out of self-preservation. It was simpler for everybody if I looked like the same person I was last year: wandering singularly and bitterly through life with only a passion for the arts. Erik and I somehow never discussed the holiday, but I couldn't decide whether he was passionately observing it anyway, considering I'd read 36 texts and sent 33 before lunch, and we were still on a roll. We had become determined to prove that we not only didn't enjoy the other's company, we wanted never to speak again and for the other to crumble under insults. In that regard, the holiday ended up being _very_ different than usual because I was staring down at the floor, smiling to myself. From the outside, I looked caught up in the magic of romance, but… scratch that – I was, but in a way of which only Giry could be aware.

I didn't hear or notice her approach me as I sat by myself below my locker. Only when I caught a long, ruffled, plum-colored skirt before my shoes did I look up from my cellphone. The sound of the busy hall hit my ears as if it had never been there before, and Giry was asking me with a cocked eyebrow, "you're _still_ eating lunch here?"At first I was too distracted by her beauty; she'd put out all the stops. Her now waist-length hair was tied back with a sparkling black flower, her lips were painted red, and her corset fit around a dress that didn't make a secret of her assets.

"What of it?" I asked.

"You shouldn't _be_ here by yourself on Valentine's Day."

"Do you really think I'm alone?" She turned her face to the side and gave me the eye, but then started looking around the area with a hand on her hip. "It's fine. Really. Before we know it, this will all pass."

"Well maybe for me, but... your love-life is constantly Valentine's Day, isn't it? Just with an extremely morbid twist?"

"Then you know all about his secret."

"What secret?"

"That he's a vampire."

"Oh, right," she said, squinting, before kneeling right in front of me. I tried not to be distracted by the sheer volume of her boobs as she spoke. "I wanted to tell you something, actually. I saw Mariam this morning and we were talking about you, because she saw you." The way her face lit up and her hands clasped, it seemed she had a secret to divulge. "She said she would've liked to see some of her friends backstage for Shorts, except she didn't want to make you uncomfortable, so I said 'well, why don't you just tell her you'll be there and she can make what she likes of it? Maybe all you have to do is stay out of her way.'" At this, my eyes fixated on her with wild anticipation, though I was trying to subdue it. "So she said 'Lily would look at me like I was crazy if I said _anything_ to her,' and I said 'Mariam, she really doesn't hate you, if that's what you're thinking,' and then she said something like 'I don't want to have to ignore her, I hate all this shit,' so we kept going back and forth until finally she said she was going to talk to you, as politely and as minimally as possible, and see what happened."

"Are you serious?" I asked, with a tone not yet excited. She frowned.

"That's not a problem, is it?"

My answer of "no" was drawn out and changed inflections several times before I looked down on my phone.

"Well, it wasn't even like 'okayyy, whatever.' She sounded like she kind of wanted to reconcile, and she was in a way light mood... I think because Jeffrey was shredding construction paper and pouring it over her head during the second half of this conversation." She flashed me a very toothy smile, but words weren't coming to me. "And... as for Erik..." I looked up and she was glancing at the phone in my hands. "She doesn't want things to be the way they were, so she's not going to talk about him. Do you think that could work?"

I made out like a response was just on its way, but just did a whole lot of blinking before she very mercifully stopped staring at me and invited me to join her group for the rest of the break. I don't know why, but I just said yes. I don't remember saying much to her friends, but other things were on my mind, anyway.

* * *

He was trying to talk to me on the way out of fifth period, but outside it was unusually beautiful and my stride down the hill was not so hurried. The sun was transcending the clouds with such a sharp light that the skeletons of dead trees were cutting into the horizon in every direction. I didn't answer his texts, but dilly-dallied on the other side of the street, eyes captured by the sky. I was hardly looking where I was going, I passed the theater entrance, but in my peripheral there was a break in the rooftops across the street, and I instinctively lowered my gaze and saw her house. To my side were the park structures, all dripping and covered in pine-needles, and the top tower where she found me watching that mysterious circle of light.

I was never unaware of how long we'd stopped talking. I knew when it'd been a week, and two weeks, and three. I knew it only took eight days for the rest of what was supposed to happen with Jeffrey to finally happen, and only twelve before I saw someone who looked as happy with him as she did only with me once. Maybe these things made most people feel bitter or desperate to make themselves independent of the other, but I felt more like something she'd misplaced and hadn't bothered yet to find. I kind of wanted to be found again. I had walked away and felt convinced that I'd sided with Erik enough to put everything into him, but I never got any happier or felt safer doing what I was doing. I was hoping this revelation of wanting to talk to me was not just the product of a light hearted day of construction paper raining over her head. I hoped she too felt a hole in her heart even if she had been very good at showing no one.

When I stepped through the front door, Mom turned her back on me in the kitchen while chopping something, and I smiled. She had made up a rule based on very smart observation that nobody should talk to me the night of a premiere, but that someone should make spaghetti as good luck food, spaghetti being the choice because Dad was often not home yet, and it was one of the few things my mom could make without blowing up the kitchen. The scent of the sauce heating followed me upstairs, but I wasn't going to the bathroom where I usually practiced my lines. Mostly because I had no lines. The ritual was in motion, but this year I had opted out of performing in Shorts. Instead of partaking in the rehearsals, I'd been telling my parents a few of us has permission to sit in on them, leaving me with a few hours every week to see the person I had given up performing for. Apparently, soon, I would have a gift for this sacrifice, so I tried not to be disappointed. Sure, I'd seen a girl wearing my dress – looking as lovely as I ever did in it, maybe more – but the energy was going to be surreal tonight, like it always was. Mariam didn't hated me. And I'd brought home enough candy to last, well, at least a week.

But then, there would be a thing about that night, however small, that took away its perfection, and it happened after dinner. I'd come from the kind of one I would've liked to have before every performance in my future, though maybe with a few more faces. We ate with a bouquet of roses from Dad to Mom in the center of the table, and Mom made fun of me for doing one of the lines I liked best from the skits "with a funny tremble in my eyebrow", but my phone beeped, and she told me she'd take my plate, so I hurried and didn't let myself read the message until I was upstairs.

"_**No."**_

I didn't move at all, and read it repeatedly while trying to understand my reaction. "Why not?" I asked, my fingers clumsily mistyping, twice. I set the phone down and did everything I needed to before it was time, but I had to wait for the next answer.

It didn't come until I was entering the mouth of the theater entrance, and a wind made the trees leaning over the road splatter me with raindrops. I tensed my shoulders and looked up at the trees like they had seriously insulted me, but I could hear an engine very close by and realized I was blocking the road. I wasn't used to there being visitors here, and stepped away wide-eyed while trying to rub the cold rain off my face. Finally, I looked at the message.

Mom.

_You left your water bottle and mints in the bathroom. I'll put them in my purse and give them to you before it starts, okay? Be there at 6:30!"_

This wasn't exactly what I was waiting for. I stepped forward and could see that light from the attic, now glowing as the sky darkened, but on the way the reason I needed finally reached me:

"_**I distance myself from anyone with an expectation of me that won't be met, Christine, and she fits under that category for you."**_

* * *

Although that night would go just as it should have, I didn't conceal my disappointment during preparation. There were so many people bustling about, it was almost like being alone, anyway. The faces I painted all kept their eyes shut, and I hardly knew them – they were underclassmen. It was reminding me of the time Mariam and I did each other's make-up, however. She was wearing a giant dress and needed heart-shaped lips, and I, on the other hand, needed a giant mole. It all sounds terribly Rococo, but I promise that's not what we were doing. My smiles about that time came and went during preparation, fading most immediately any time I thought of the attitude Erik had shown me he had toward the subject, of Mariam and I, being anything what we were. I guess I'd been pretty good at pretending I didn't miss it around him.

At ten minutes till, the cast and crew got into a giant circle backstage and started shouting with enough force to bring down the nonexistent chandelier, but maybe parts of the fly system. The people up there were yelling straight back at us. I heard them do every sound in the alphabet and was doing it silently from the sidelines. Ah, but I remember on that same night that Mariam had the lips and I had the mole, we were doing the sounds, holding hands, and making cross-eyes in each other's faces. It had started back in freshman year, after I was turned down for the first audition and cried in the bathroom like a baby. I'd learned not to be so shy, but not to stop taking myself so seriously. She fixed this by making all kinds of faces to me while I ran over my lines for every following audition. I remember Mrs. Vardega taught me what people really want to see won't come out if you feel inhibited, so Mariam and I started doing some crazy exercises to crack my inhibition and "turn me to jelly", as we called it – free to do anything.

It was funny, when I thought of it, that Mariam had helped me "turn to jelly". She wanted me to be just like Erik wanted me to be in a bigger sense; she just didn't know there was a bigger sense. She didn't know what kind of thoughts I was having about acting that would never, or seemingly never, work out.

It was even funnier that being with Erik hadn't made me feel as loose as this once had. He introduced me to new ways of thought, and he let me run away to him, but not just anything could be done. There were many rules to He and I.

Love was a very whimsical thing, tonight, though. Everything was pink and red, and glowing, and laughter was almost nonstop. There was secret chaos behind the curtains, and a whole number of people had tripped backstage trying to haul off the ridiculous backdrops we had painted (I still don't even know how we got them done in time), but our bruises were rewarded with donuts, I guess is the good thing. Then I went looking for my backpack, where the head of a dethorned rose was poking out of the zipper. There was no message, there was no expectation, and nothing had been done yet, which meant happiness was the way to feel.

If I worried about what he had said, that would make him the authority of everything, and if he was the authority of everything, it meant my life had a dictator instead of someone who loved me and respected me.

And so, that night, I allowed myself to float on a cloud of complacency. I deleted his two messages, even if I still wrote them down on a piece of paper and stuffed them away. I acted with more reliance on what should have happened than what would, but it should have meant something more to me that I regretted asking what he thought of Mariam coming back into my sphere. The plan I had after thinking of her again and again that night was to invite her in to a place in my heart where Erik wouldn't notice, and where she wouldn't notice what had happened between us.

* * *

While I was finishing my paper for Humanities on fatalism, I took my first step into something completely right, but would promise to fuck up everything at the same time. I'd sunk back into the computer chair and started thinking about my next paragraph when I received a new instant message. I imagined that there was a way that box could've opened up on my screen as timidly as she would approach me in person, then I smiled at the words "marimonster (10:27PM): Hi Lily."

"Hello," I typed, and I bounced in my seat just a little, only a little, and leaned forward with my elbows bent up at the edge of the desk.

"That guy with the hat was so funny."

"You were there?!"

"Well yeah..."

I agreed it had to be the funniest skit, and this was luckily a comparatively dispassionate subject – a bit like the Victorians about weather, for us – so I ran with it. The second to last skit, about a guy losing his hat at the park by supernatural forces, involved birds and a lot of rigging, and little did she know that one of our guys in the fly dropped a fedora he'd decided to wear and Jordan, at the bench, had to come up with some extra lines to seem really surprised there were two of them. (I think he said "I guess it's a past time around here" or something.)

"ahhhh… I wish I'd thought of auditioning, it sounds like it was a lot of fun. I was busy though and you weren't around to bug me about it"

"Well, they're getting started right away on Bat Boy, if you're interested."

"OH GOD, I FORGOT ABOUT THAT"

I thought about what I was doing when a pause ensued in our messages, and I found delight in how constant our connection to one another was even if we hadn't talked for a while. It was my choice. When it came down to it, we all had expectations of people that could be unmet. Even Erik, who was more than just important to me, was a prime example of possible disappointment, and so was I for him. There was a constant threat of me disappointing him, even, that he explained in some other way as if it wasn't like what Mariam posed for me.

"hey," she started, and I perked up. "I'm going to Shorts again cuz Jeffrey hasn't seen it yet and wants to. I'm going to visit backstage. I could just say hi if you want."

I fell back in my chair again and fidgeted.

* * *

After I'd smacked down the snooze button, I rolled on my back with my eyes still closed and figured it made more sense that I had only had a dream Mariam was talking to me. But since it wasn't, I had to make sure I was on top of everything. Erik had told me that tonight he would be viewing the production, so any misstep backstage, such as meeting a girl he wanted me to have nothing to do with, would be inexcusable. She wanted to see me in what was now his territory, and the simple matter of it was that I would have to avoid her. He'd had a very grand entrance last November when he pulled me into the stairwell closet during intermission, and I'm sure if he planned to do that or something of similar shock-value this time, I wouldn't know about it until it was happening.

I kind of wanted it to, again. I wanted to have both of them.

It wouldn't happen this time, though. I'd have to make sure my parents and I were going to leave right away. I'd explain I was quite tired.

* * *

The second night didn't have nearly that same feeling of perfection. Had she found me, it wouldn't have been the end of the world, but I thought about it often. It wasn't as simple, evading her, as it would be evading someone who wasn't a theatre geek. Mariam had the nerve to walk right backstage if she wanted to, whether or not she was a part of the cast. She had friends here. I'd look all around me every now and then while I was doing the make-up, looking out for any red, pink, or striped clothing, or black hair in diddly-bobs. I also did a silly thing and wandered downstairs during intermission where nobody could find me.

At the end of it all, I hadn't found _her_. She'd never even told me which night she would be there. Jeffrey, although I should've had no reason to be annoyed with him, hadn't yet decided which night was a better idea, apparently. I wanted to be like everyone else and have a perfect time again, but as soon as the cast was coming back from curtain call, I was squeezing between bodies on a mission for my bag. There was another rose, its head just outside my zipper to protect the petals. I hadn't the time to put it safely inside, so I held it in front of me and went out the side door, where the life, and the chatter, and the light so warm was replaced by a world stiff and dry. I hadn't put on my coat yet, and I was suddenly struck with a breeze. What a way to end something like this – abandoning my ensemble and being freezing, all so I could blow off the most important people to me.

I lowered my bag, threw my coat over my shoulders, and texted my mom to tell her I had walked outside. They didn't appear right away and I was stuck behind the corner of the building,waiting, fumbling with the rose, until I felt a note tied to a leaf.

_**Find me with your key.  
-E**_

The note folded tightly in my grasp before I pulled it from the ribbon. I wanted to be excited, but pushed away the feelings he had conjured, hid the words in my pocket, and kept scanning the swarm of departing until I saw the backs of my parents' coats. When I came up right behind them and touched my mom's shoulder, both turned around with perplexed expressions, but Mom's eyes didn't miss a beat falling straight on the rose.

"Lily! Where'd you get that?"

"What? Oh. Someone was handing them out backstage," I said as naturally as ever. She seemed disappointed, but I couldn't imagine why. "Well, I'm tired. Let's go home," I tried.

Dad seemed all for it. He'd sat through our show, good as it was, after a twelve hour shift. He put his arm around me and I tried not to feel guilty at all for what I'd just done. It wasn't working, and the crowd seemed to be holding us back now as if it knew I had multiple unfulfilled purposes, but suddenly we came face-to-face with Mr. Frackson. I wasn't expecting him at all and sort of went tense because he was attractive and made me feel a tiny bit fuzzy inside.

"Oh, hi, Lily!" He burst into greetings. I ever-so-timidly said hello back.

"Is this one of your teachers?" My mom had to ask. I told them who he was and Mr. Frackson did what I would never do and extended his hand to both of them until it had been thoroughly shaken.

"It's nice to meet you and seemingly… _fated_," he said, while looking to me expectantly. I laughed. "Lily's a very charming student of mine." His tone hinted at no jest at all, and his head was tilted back so he could see my mom and dad clearly through the glasses now slipping down his nose. I found I had momentarily gaped at hearing the compliment when he otherwise very rarely spoke to me one on one.

"Well, we're not surprised," Mom replied, which almost inspired a face-palm, but I used the moment to discreetly survey the people around us, making sure there was still no bright red or magenta mixed with fruit-shaped hair clips, no black curly hair... Even if I didn't see her, she might see me at any minute. She was the kind of person who could slink around with her short stature and just spring on you.

"She's been a wonderful asset to the class during discussion. I just have to make sure I call on her or she won't say a thing."

"That sounds like her."

"You know, guys, I'm right here," I began, but, in most situations where I interrupted adults, they just laughed. I leaned a little closer to Mom and kind of just stared at my teacher while he answered her next question, totally not attracted to him or anything.

"So are you involved with the theatre group here, or-" she asked.

"Actually, I'm on my way to being a literature consultant – my area is English – but no, as of now, I was invited by some of the faculty and one of my other students is in the cast, so I said I'd come check it out." My mom 'aah'd a couple times as my dad nodded with his hands in his pockets, then Mr. Frackson gave me a smile that made the lines between his mouth and his nose come together in perfectly angular harmony. "Everyone was superb. I'm glad I came. I actually have to, uh, find Mrs. Vardega actually- so if you'll excuse me." He sort of bowed at us and told me he'd see me tomorrow, and I muttered something or other with my eyes hitting the ground and my fingers twirling the rose.

"He was a nice man," Mom told me in the car, as if I needed help realizing that.

On our way out, the round attic window was watching over the lot, the room behind it deeply black like Erik's gaze.

* * *

"Why did you leave so early?" He wondered as soon as I answered, not even ten minutes after I was home. "You were beautiful and then you vanished."

"That's you every day," was my knee-jerk response.

At 11:30, when both of them were conked out in the living room, I left.

* * *

On night three, I saw her at the worst time anyone could possibly see a friend they weren't supposed to see. About five minutes after the final curtain fall, when clean-up of the entire production would take place for two hours at most, and when I thought perhaps, if she had come at all, Jeffrey had swept her off for some different purpose, she was there in the corner, chatting with two of my own classmates in Stage Crew that I had no idea she even knew. I was prepared for this: I had been keeping to less obvious places when possible, and, to make myself calmer, I did the whole production sneaking candy left and right. I had practically had chocolate for dinner, and none of it was originally mine. Well, in any case, I assumed I'd see her just to be safe, especially after she was frustratingly missing from AIM all night and wasn't responding to my text, and even though she was known for overlooking a message or two I couldn't bring myself to send duplicate questions given the delicate stage we were in.

When I saw her, I almost considered slinking out the side door, but I had to go to my station and start removing the make-up and prosthetics off our less experienced performers. I tried my hardest to seem like I hadn't noticed her arrival, but there came a point when she was standing by herself against the curtains, clearly looking for me, and we made definite eye contact, on accident you could say. She was wearing an adorable polka-dot shirt and waving her arm in that way Mr. Hankey did in South Park. My smile must've been the weakest most pathetic thing she had ever seen and then tried to seem super busy, but all I did was spill spirit gum remover by pouring too fast. Relentless, my friend I had been without all this time was breaking through the costume sorting group, heading past set pieces and two girls struggling to remove a corset. "Hi, Lily," she said while I was wiping up the floor. I stood up and said hi back, still trying to seem like I couldn't spend too much time looking her in the face, not even knowing how to show her the warmth I wanted to under this condition. She herself was completely out of words, it turned out, I wasn't used to her just watching me like that.

"Your make-up turned out pretty good," she trailed, but she was so out in the open, so obviously talking to me, as anyone would be able to guess had they been watching.

"Thank you," I said while turning my back on her, "looking for something." In my peripheral, I could see her rubbing her shoes together; I could tell I was making her feel awkward. "I'm glad you came," my voice just barely got out.

"What?"

"I'm glad _you came..._"

"Oh! Yeah... me too..." My eyes were on my actress's face, but I could see her blurred figure looking around the backstage. "Well I'll just be around. I can see you're pretty busy."

And she went to find a place to watch her other friends. I kept track of her only in the corner of my eye, and only sometimes risked a carefully quick smile, but what else could I do? By the time all the actors were clean, and leaving, I glimpsed her just watching me while I went for my backpack; it was killing me. Erik had sent several messages about how this process was taking far too long for him (trust me; it was taking too long for me, too), so I ever so discreetly slipped out into the hallway when I was told to do so, and to my absolute surprise, Erik was waiting there.

"Jesus Christ!" And I did this thing that involved tugging on him with no effect while he tried to look as stony-faced as possible, but there were smile lines on the both of us once I gave up.

"So am I going to be alone after all of this?"

If he wasn't going to hide with me, I was at least going to back into the shadows of the stairway, and even begin descending them. He was noting my paranoia with so much amusement, but I could see down the hallway and spotted that nameless grey-haired manager, shuffling around near the open entrance. He turned around and saw Erik and just looked away. "I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going downstairs right now. If you want to talk, that's where I'll be!" And I ran down, thinking for a moment that he may not have agreed to this arrangement because I heard no indication that he was following me, but his hand appeared at the first visible place on the railing, and he came down on light feet, directing, for some reason, a wide-eyed grin towards the upper level.

"I've got about two minutes," I said.

"Ah, and how would you like to spend those two minutes?" I shriveled up and opened the nearest door, still sensing the man just a floor above us, wondering how curious he was.

"Well, I think at this rate, I'm going to have to spend them lecturing you about staying out of people's sight."

"So beautiful people, like you and me, always have to vanish, huh?" I looked at him for a second before disappearing into the dark room, but within a second, Erik had appeared at the doorway and switched on the light. "A place as claustrophobic as this is hard to hide in, you know, and sometimes I'd just rather not do it," he said. I didn't let him step too close before I dashed through the next passage, one I had once been very startled by, but relativity had changed that. I could see where I was stepping for a ways, and see the golden strings of light between the creaking wooden floor panels above my head, but then the room behind me went black.

"Hey!" I shouted over my shoulder.

He laughed but went very quiet, and then the light in the floor above me also vanished. I could hear murmuring suddenly and I turned around even if Erik couldn't see my face.

"There. Now everyone's hiding. What should we do next?"

I covered my mouth. "Turn it back on!"

"I'll do that if I know you won't be leaving with them."

"You know people are expecting me to come home after this, right?"

"Well then don't stay long. Stay for just a short while and I'll give you a night's worth of me."

"That sounds awfully suggestive to me."

"I think it's been two minutes." With a sudden motion, he was off the steps and clasping his hand around my wrist. I could slightly see the zig-zagged path he was leading us through, all the way across what would've been the rows of seats above our heads, until the door opened on the spiral stairwell. "You are an awful man," I said to him over my shoulder.

"Then you shouldn't be around me." When I turned completely around, he slammed the stairwell door, and I just stared at the handle.

The lights all returned before I stepped out of the stairwell on the ground level, just so that a few people would naturally snap their heads in my direction when they saw me coming down the isle, but Mariam wasn't one of them. She was missing from the room for five minutes; I thought she'd left. I was giving the stage a good sweep when she came through the same door from which I had left, and calmly took a seat.

Twenty minutes later, I received a text during role-call that prompted me to look towards her first, to see that she had noticed in a sense different from everyone else that someone was contacting me, but then the lights went out again and in that little moment of uncertainty, I brought the glowing screen up to face to read my next instructions. Mrs. Vardega was quick to establish some order over what was becoming a group of snickering teenagers bent on soaking up the paranoia of the moment. While she was telling everyone to go outside and wait for their parents, patting those who passed her for the hallway on the shoulder, I kept falling back in line. Soon the light outside the auditorium caught Mariam's glasses when her face turned behind her, when she was looking for me, and falling back, too.

But I hurried up against the wall where I was invisible, and Mariam evidently, though I could see her no longer, went with the crowd and didn't have it in her to tell someone I had never come out.


	45. Chapter 45 A Complicated Ritual

**Author's Note: **Hi guys. I'm very excited about this one. I know it took me longer than a week, but when I finally had time, I was on it for at least 10 hours today and yesterday. I think there's some legitimate content and we finally get to meet Jeffrey. (It seemed like it would NEVER happen.) For that reason, I hope that you'll be commenting this time. I got the impression I'd disappointed you with the last chapter, so please let me know if I've redeemed myself. Get ready for some drama in the next installment, which should hopefully come in a week.

* * *

**HE'S ( ) THERE  
**Chapter 45 – A Complicated Ritual

Mariam didn't need to ask questions to know what happened that night, or why she, presumably, had to walk home by herself, but this comforted me even less than if she hadn't a single clue. I still remember her eyes glimmering in the hallway light, wide, anticipating me to be the last one out, my shoulder patted by Mrs. Vardega. Once the door was closed and I could scarcely see in front of me, I imagined her turning back to face the lobby, walking on tip toes and cranking her neck. _"Did I miss her somehow?" "Where's that brown hair and flower clip?"_ I imagined the innocent nature of her searching, the way a friend or a sister searches, and the way that I searched for her, preparing to flee like an outlaw at any moment.

This was just the opposite kind of impression of me that I wanted her to have. Stupidly, I had told her "sure, come backstage," all to seem cool and untroubled; to assert that no one else's opinion mattered about this arrangement and that_ my_ opinion was that I missed her... So much for that being good enough.

It just _wasn't_ good enough to want things like her friendship, or peace. Erik and I may have worked in words – in ridiculous, semantic wars, even – but to Mariam, it was actions that counted. I'd cancelled tutoring, I was tired all the time, I hadn't performed since the Fall, but this sacrifice was unquestionably heaviest on me suddenly, even if it was a sacrifice completed in only a few moments. I had no obligation to walk home with her, we had said our hellos and given each other our smiles and waves, so there was no way I should be feeling even remotely like I did the night I walked out of Winter Formal. Yet, the thought kept pounding on me that she was walking home alone, and here was I, watching a light turn on from high above, to help me see the way to the side door.

And Erik said: "the way it _should _be done is that we vanish together."

He even carried me through the woods. I dared to think for a moment I was attracted to him for keeping me in such a consistent hold, never letting me slip even slightly. Of course, we didn't stay together long. He made out like he quite lamented that I didn't think I had time to perform that week, and I just went along with it. Yes, it was too bad...

On the way back, even on the arm of my escort, all I could think was _"she's got to be online." _She always was. I could rush into the study and get on AIM so she knew I was home, and that she meant something to me.

But she wasn't there. I thought maybe in a few minutes she'd show up, and before I heard the sound of her signing in I'd just resort to an easy distraction, but eventually two hours had passed, and I was playing mindsweeper.

* * *

Mariam every so mercifully pretended I had never disappeared by the next time I saw her. I wasn't seeing her at school the way I used to, and she seemed to be having fun within a group of studious underclassmen during lunch, all of whom were connected in some way to Jeffrey and who apparently had a wonderful sense of humor. We mostly interacted on the internet for those first couple weeks, where I could comfortably chat with her for hours. I had to insist that, no, I didn't want to join that group during break (to which she grumbled about me being just as asocial as always), but she shouldn't feel badly. I had to stress it to a degree that caused paranoia in me about her somehow knowing Erik didn't want us to talk that she also could not spring upon me out of nowhere with one of them, or especially Jeffrey himself, in tow.

For just a little while, I was having my cake and eating it, too. I could play the "shy" card, and the both of us could be hyper-aware that we hadn't talked a month for a significant reason, so it was easy to be able to suggest we only talk online, to ease back in. After a day of fastening my eyes on the ground while I walked, or minding my phone for messages, I could share my trivial observations with her, complain, tease, or ask about all the things going on in her life. Ask about who these people were that she now knew. Ask who finally said they liked the other, and how. I consoled her about her upcoming driver's license test. She was hooked to some new HBO series, I forgot the name, and she told me I had to find it and watch it too.

It remained all about her, and that was satisfying to me right then because, whether we were willing it or not in the face of quite a complicated situation, she brought back a state of simplicity to my life during those little moments I could catch her.

She wanted me to meet Jeffrey, though. Several times in the hall, if she was alone, she'd wave at me or come say a quick hello, then give me my peace, but other times, there would be that sandy-haired boy locking fingers with her, and she'd send me a glance that was rather like a neon arrow, flashing and pointing to him. I don't know why, but I wanted never to meet him.

That probably sounds like a very bad way to feel, and I considered several times, out of frustration for this adverse reaction, that maybe I was jealous of him for having Mariam in my absence. This explanation never really held up, though, and it was only until I saw it all in retrospect that I realized I was uncomfortable with being face to face with him, in front of her. I was afraid it was all quite clear, now, who made her happier; that I now looked quite dim in front of her new star.

Maybe it sounded cute and typical to her that I told her I didn't want to be awkward around him, but this excuse was good for only one or two times. I'd have to say I was going to meet him, or risk looking apathetic, or cold. It wasn't the time to repeat anything she or I had experienced before, like feeling that something new and important was unwelcome to someone else, without a fair trial.

* * *

It was the next weekend that my parents told me they were thinking of going to Seaside over Spring break, which was fast approaching. It was a coastal town only an hour and a half away, where we had rented a cabin only last summer, and apparently my dad had been fantasizing about going back once weather permitted. My first reaction upon hearing this was that weather was _not _permitting, and to trust an Oregon forecast that was two weeks in advance about "clear skies" and "high lows" was mere self-deception, but my parents were weird. They didn't care. They went to the beach to eat at the restaurants and buy whale snow-globes. I was the only one who seemed to want to do what you were supposed to when you saw the coast – swim, get dirty, and complain endlessly on the way back about the wind and the sand that had once seemed so alluring.

When I threw out the notion that I wouldn't go with them, neither of them looked at me; in fact, they looked to each other instead, with sly smiles. I was certain my appetite was gone after that.

Erik, on the other hand, was quite interested, his appetite for something or other awakened, when I told him about this. It seemed to become something that held him over, because beforehand, I got the feeling that he was restless again. He'd began to talk a lot about insomnia, and apparently had a stack of resources on the subject that consumed his time when I was away from him. Starting a few nights after Mariam was with us backstage, he told me stories, in a casual manner that almost succeeded in disguising itself as playfulness. The stories were all unquestionably true, he said, and about people who couldn't close their eyes. I remember a lot of them, still: one man committed suicide by overdosing on over-the-counter sleep medication, by swallowing not one, but two bottles of pills. Another convinced himself he had fallen asleep and was lucid dreaming, attracting the attention of the police, but he escaped them very briefly before riding an elevator to the top floor of a business complex and jumping out the window. People who knew him said, despite his ravings to the police, he knew very well he was awake.

If the stories seem at all mismatched to what I usually experienced, it's true, and that's probably why Erik told them to me, just to get the blood flowing, and to get my attention, even if he recited them like bedtime stories. I couldn't make up my mind if he just had a bad sense of what to talk about before bed, or if he was just plain inciting fear in me for his own well-being, but at the time I simply worried. I'd become glad I was there, even if it meant skipping over all the things I used to enjoy, as if I'd just pulled him from the train tracks.

Well, as I was saying, he attached a certain weight to my parents' going away that made even me anticipate what it would be like. I had tried to arrange that he stay with me at my house, but quite unlike a few weeks prior, he was no longer interested in being there. He wanted me to be at the theater every night, but I figured along the way that I could convince him, when I went back to shower perhaps, that he could simply crawl into my bed.

I don't know how he did it, but the same bed, speaking of them, was transported from the basement to the attic by the time the break finally started, along with a lot of other things: chairs, tabletops, his books, the candlesticks that had been backstage, the rugs and flower vases and other decorative props.

When Mom and Dad left on Sunday, I had to reassure them it was no big deal they were going to Seaside without me, and that teenagers liked being alone. As soon as I said that, it all seemed to come together for them, and they proceeded to give me hugs and then order me to take their luggage to the trunk.

But then I went to the theater, used my key on the side door, and climbed the spiral stairs as suggested to me, and I found everything sitting up there as if I had just checked in to a resort.

There was a note on the bed that was shamelessly cursive like Edwardian Script font, indicating to me that he would be gone until eight, "running errands", whatever that meant. For about twenty minutes, I stayed up there, lying on the bed, admiring this strange set-up. In the back of mind, I was considering why he had been doing such a thing for so long, first on the stage, then down below, then up here, perhaps because he suspected I liked it up here. I did. There were windows. I could see where we were; I could see who was coming. The room was three times as big and I could see something called light, even if today the clouds had been fading in and out.

But the room... It just kept making me think of replacements. It reminded me that one of 52 vintage clips was in my hair, and the butterfly necklace was around my neck. I'd seriously been on the verge of arguing with him a day ago: _"why can't we stay at my house at least one night?" _**"Because you want to stay there too badly."** **"Why can't I challenge you to live even somewhat like I do, but hardly the same, on a regular basis? Aren't you interested?"**

Not all three nights in a row, no.

I sat up and went flipping through the books, which were stacked in boxes on the wooden table built into the wall in the back end of the room. He clearly had no respect for them. They were underlined and even corrected, and notes were written in the margins. **"Absolutely false and reason why cases such as Lucy," **last name illegible, **"deal with horrid side effects like sleep paralysis**,**" **more I couldn't read, and then **"should refer to 5****th**** ed." **Maybe it wasn't his writing, I don't know.

* * *

When I eventually saw him that night, he was at my door at 6:30, blocking what was suddenly a downpour with his infamous black umbrella. I felt bad for my parents, wherever they were. He stepped near to me so that it cupped around the door frame and shielded our interaction from outside eyes, while his own were incredibly alert, moreso than I'd seen them for a while.

"You're going to come with me, and I'm going to measure you," he informed me.

"Why?"

"Because you've lost your dress, and, in preparing you for a _new_ one, this seemed like the most appropriate time to see you _without_ one."

"If things were not how they are, I'd slap you, Mr. Phantom."

"Try it. You might be able to get away with it," he said, his face completely straight. I laughed, but told him to come in and close the door. "Sorry, but I have dinner waiting, and, seeing as I paid for it, I have no intention of wasting it."

"And you know that I would feel bad if you went by yourself. I see what's going on here," I said, and I looked around the house just to jog my memory about if I'd left on any electrical appliances. "Let me get my coat."

* * *

This was Sunday night. I went along with it because, restrictions about coming back to my house aside, he was making it quite fun for me. I was certain that my sacrifices had paid off, for the both of us. He was extremely reactive to me, and playful as if he had just woken from a sleep long enough to cure him.

"You know, I could probably just give you my dress size, Erik," I told him, with my arms up, standing in front of the wardrobe mirror where I could watch everything he was doing. Very willingly I'd put on the night slip I'd planned to wear to bed and was eying myself to make sure all of my assets were smoothly out of view. But even so, I was stifling the unspeakable way I was excited inside. "I really don't think this is necessary," I went on. He had the tape around my leg, just below my knee, but smiled to me in the reflection before answering.

"I think we both know we don't lead a life of necessity." And then he continued while saying: "You can put your arms down. They've been up for five minutes and I haven't been anywhere near them for four."

I obeyed, with began to shake my head disapprovingly at his conduct.

"You'd think you were making me a wetsuit or something."

"Is it too much to want to know the actual size of you? Is it unjustified curiosity?" I gave him a look in the mirror that he was free to interpret, and he continued on with a faint grin, as if he had victoriously stated the truth, and he grew so proud of it that to sturdy me, he might say, his hand came to rest on the outside of my thigh. I could see it in the mirror, fingers brushing just slightly against my skin.

"If you were legitimately my tailor and I didn't know you, I'd file for sexual violations."

"Well, I happen not to be, so what would that make this?"

"Sexual... _invitations_." I stared at the ceiling just so I could get out the words with a straighter face, but I felt all contact between us cease as he set down the measuring tape.

"Ah..." He answered. He shuffled with the drawers in the wardrobe. "And would that still be an offense?" I sighed as if I pitied him greatly.

"I'm afraid so... You're in a _lot _of trouble." I should have known that looking up like that just put my face right under him for the taking. He turned away from the wardrobe and leaned right above me, and I felt something touch me just above my crossed arms. I looked down and slowly unfolded them to take the offer – the tape – and he raised his hands before me, palms connected and fingers spread like bird's wings. Without thinking, I threw the tape around his wrists and he backed himself up while I held on to restrain him. I knew he was taking us toward the bed, and didn't care. We found ourselves tangled up in all the best ways.

At my age, I didn't really know yet the way two people's interactions, romantically, could be a spectrum like a slip'n'slide. What I mean is: if we were smiling so much, laughing so much, making jokes about wet-suits and what have you, it didn't occur to me that at this particular time he might be interested in all that stopping for an even greater gain. I somehow thought that the introduction set out the rules for the conclusion.

However, there came a time when fingers rolling up my slip were permitted to do so with more than just passivity, and I let go of the tape. I spread myself on top of him in a more self-satisfying way than I would ever admit, aware with a need for experimentation that so little separated my body from direct contact. But he was breathing harshly suddenly, and my slip was in folds, high above my waist. Instinctively, I started to roll off of him, but he turned on his side, and then steadied himself on top of me without pressing down all his weight, but his waist was in between my thighs. We kissed for just a moment longer, and then we were still and quiet. He planted his face in my chest and held my side in such a way that the fabric of my dress popped up in excess. I felt exposed but didn't dare say so, and whether he noticed or not, his lips ran down and captured the flesh in the dip of the front. I didn't know what to do to slow things down except speak.

"Erik, I..." I didn't truly have a thought at that moment, but I tried to have one anyway. "This all seems to've been one complicated trap."

He took his time rising, then thought of a response. "Are you sure about that?" I knew what I'd done, but he didn't stop me. "I always understood a trap as one party disillusioning another into acting to the former party's benefit. It seems to me what you and I did was a complicated _ritual_, and I haven't known anything different since I first met you." For a moment he looked amused before his eyes dropped to my neck, and then glanced, maybe to the window. The sky was finally dark blue, and the rain had quieted. When, exactly, I had no idea.

Somehow, I trapped – ritualized, perhaps – him into ignoring what we had started until the fire in me went away. And once it went away, we talked again, and I, in a way that was completely subconscious, was trying to figure out why I was talking to him when many other things could've been happening. I was asking if he realized I cared about a vision of him that he could have entirely fabricated, that no matter how it may have seemed self-evident that he owned his actions and his words, that his name and his facelessness would always negate them in some way. Then he told me something interesting. He said a person's face is not them – which I knew – but the face which they create is absolutely them. He said as soon as you choose, something real is born.

From there, I was reminded of something Mrs. Vardega said in my first year of acting: that the stage makes you realize what is real within fantasy, and what your own imitations and fronts are once you leave it. Once she said this, I began to question myself a lot, until I knew exactly what I was injecting into my conscience about my own life. I knew I had a unique way of interpreting the shadow in the corner of the room, of what it meant to find a note protected in tupperware on the trail at the park. I was looking for stories to present themselves by presenting mannerisms which invited them. The biggest transformation that had happened to me was I became aloof with others, untouchable, bizarre. I mirrored people I wanted to be like. I wore "the Phantom's" gloves as a freshman. And I was pretty sure Erik had inadvertently put me through Wits 101 this entire time. I wouldn't have been the girl last fall who handcuffed him with measuring tape. I wouldn't be here.

"I must say, I think you're too self-aware; you're self-skeptical, and nothing will come of it," he suddenly told me, just after I realized I was rambling.

"I just wonder if it's the fate of someone like me to imitate everything without being anything."

Of course, he knew somehow that this applied to him, and he pulled me out of a reverie by squeezing the hand I'd given him, and he climbed a little closer.

" You're not imitating _everything_. No one does that. They imitate very specific things that speak to them inside, stick to them without even a conscious decision to. I think what we naturally imitate is as good as natural. I think it puts a code on what is hard to explain. That's how you know who I am, Christine. That's how you know what to make of me." He caught my attention suddenly and I focused on him with an inability to reconcile what he just said with my own interpretation of him. "I hope this isn't what holds you back. Then again, if it is, I feel I could do so much by way of convincing you not to let it do so any longer."

"I don't want to talk about it," I said right away. He bowed his head and kissed my hand, and then I reached out to his collar. "You look so uncomfortable like that."

Later, I fell asleep on him and woke in the middle of the night to all the lights still on, and Erik in a rather awkward position with his arm under his body, holding something in his hand. I rubbed my eyes and came closer, until I realized he'd taken the clip out of my hair. Before I'd ever drifted, he'd told me to tell him when he had finally waited long enough.

* * *

The next morning, it was Giry who first crossed my mind. I called her when I was in the ladies room upstairs, taking my time. I figured at 11:00, after Erik and I had woken and spent the late morning having meaningless conversations halfway under the covers, never really bothering to finish our sentences between kisses, well... surely she was awake enough to iron out the details.

I hadn't planned to stay here all day. Mariam and Jeffrey would be waiting around the Waterfront park at two, where I would finally meet him. Neither of them had a problem with me bringing Giry along, so I successfully evaded Mariam trying to meet me anywhere in sight of Erik. Aside to I having some moral support, she was the only trusted person who could conspicuously pick me up and pretend she was my only company.

I did indeed have to iron out the details, however. She found herself not so sure if we could go through with this plan. She answered and I told her where I was. I said quite frankly that without her help I would have to cancel on Mariam and how it was the last thing I wanted to do. I had built myself up for it, just as Erik had built up my parents' absence. "Well, I'll be there at 1:30, then," she finally agreed, sounding almost defeated. "I hope you're enjoying yourself over there."

"Oh, definitely," I told her, but it not seem right. We hung up afterward and I was looking at my bare feet on the tiles, to the vent above my head. There were goosebumps all over my body and there was no lock on the door. It did feel awkward leaving that room as I was, even promised that no one else was here. I still wished we could've stayed at home. I wanted all my things: all my brushes and hairbands I didn't even need, my stuffed owls, my teacups, my blankets. I did not really want to be here continuously for three days, but if I argued that I wanted _him_ simply to be among all my other comforts, he would argue back that I had to stop trying physically to do what is "conceptually impossible".

I went ahead with my plans, got ready, and, for breakfast we pulled a small corner table that he had added to the attic just in front of that circular window. In the neatest way that he possibly could, he brought us instant oatmeal and a bowl of sugar-sprinkled strawberry slices, and chocolate, even. I hadn't the heart to tell him I liked coffee first things first, but I drank the Darjeeling anyway. The theater was positioned in such a way that the sun rose facing its front corner, and so the light shadowed one half of the table and made the other half glow. He was hoping I'd sit there but, after the both of us discussing our aversion to bright light, he made the sacrifice, one I was quite pleased he made.

For weeks, I'd kept picturing the rings in his eyes from stark sunlight, almost unable to cope with how beautiful it was, and beautiful because it was exceptional, like finding crystal in a stone. While he proceeded to have a meager appetite and watch me discreetly, I would eat with my focus dropping down three stories to the entrance front, and then steal, utterly steal, a gaze as long as I could of his irises emblazoned.

He had a book behind his end of the table, I could tell. His shirt was open four buttons down and his sleeves were pushed up his forearms. The direct sunlight made his skin even out into a smooth ivory canvas, still riddled with scars like a cracked statue. He was always clean, but he never changed out of those stiff clothes, and any amount of undressing he did was because of me. I'd left him at four buttons down.

I felt I'd gypped the both of us, suddenly.

As that moment went on, if I could be honest, I began to wish sleeping with him wasn't so unthinkable by now. I wanted to, and yet I had hands that reached for everything but guarded my own body. I was sitting there not understanding a thing about myself or why last night was a series of pleasant escapes, and as my appetite dwindled, I was trying to resolve that during this little window of time I _would_ sleep with him. Then he could be sure – and more importantly _I_ could feel sure – that I was not in purgatory. It was not the place to be when someone was in love with you. And maybe, just maybe, this would be a form of insurance for what I was going to do that day.

When I'd had enough, I set down my empty cup, rose from my seat, and sat on top of him as casually as ever. When he set down his book, whatever smile he had raised while I was coming towards him washed right off, and I felt no hesitance to drop the casual pretense and hide my face into his shoulder.

* * *

Giry pulled up front not long after, and I was able to give him our vague plans for that afternoon and walk out the doors with a sort of serenity I had attained from feeling the pulse in his neck beat against mine, as if I had set myself like a clock to run for him down to the millisecond. For the first few minutes while I was in the car with her, I was still imagining I could feel it. I don't know why his pulse was such a fascinating thing to me.

At first, I thought her silence was to give me some space; perhaps I looked dreamy, perhaps I was trying to reconcile with myself that this meeting was entirely justified no matter how much I cared about him. Once I began to expect conversation, though, none of it happened until it would've been far too awkward not to, so she started asking me if I was excited.

"I'm definitely expecting it to be interesting," I said.

"You'll like him," she told me, but the fact that she knew this before me just contributed to my self-consciousness. But from there, we had a general conversation about what we knew of him. She said he loved to tease Mariam by stating he had anything she brought up about herself in common with her if it wasn't possible for him to, like his bra size and having quirky Iranian relatives ("at the end of the day, I'm proud of my heritage, really"). She warned me he'd learned I didn't like to shake hands and had been telling Mariam when "her mysterious friend" finally said hello him, he would engage her in the most formal handshake he could come up with.

My transition from Erik's heartbeat to this bright day with all three of them was very easy for all our way to Portland, and crossing the bridge, and going along Naito Parkway to find a decent parking spot. She finally found us somewhere once two o'clock had already passed by a few minutes, but when she stopped the car, she looked herself in the mirror as if we were on time. I had my hand on the handle of the door. "I think it's good you're seeing her," she said, glancing at me with a confirming smile which dropped back down when her eyes met her reflection again. "It's really your right to do that, you know?"

"I know."

"I just wish it wasn't a secret." I could only stare at her while she put the cap back on her lip-gloss and gathered her purse in her lap. "Well, should we go?"

"I think you of all people know why this has to be a secret, Giry." Something about what I said inspired a sudden lift in her features as if something was in disagreement with her, and she smiled humorlessly down to the space between us.

"Lily, I know that you and him both think you have a real relationship, so I don't really think these names and preconditions apply anymore. And if they don't apply, then it's a personal problem, between Mariam and whoever he is, and I don't really know what concrete reason there is for it, so it's making me uncomfortable." I thought up a number of approaches in my head to reacting to this, all the while keeping my grip on the handle, but I fell short of ever speaking. "I mean do _you_ know the reason why? Has either one of them made it clear, and is it really something you can't fix?"

"T-they both think the other isn't very good for me, I guess is it."

"What proof would he ever have that Mariam isn't good for you?"

"You know, they're probably waiting for us," I answered, looking away like I was in a hurry. "And I don't know."

It was a spectacular answer that made me feel light as air on our way to the park, _really and truly_. Giry was quiet again, but worse than sensing she might be frustrated or even mad about my answer, it felt like she was contemplating how fundamentally wrong every move I made from hereon was, from a powerless vantage point. It was a jump into cold water to suddenly immerse ourselves in the carefree world that Mariam and Jeffrey had created and brought with them when they finally saw us; when how we were had to match how they were. They were both looking over the railing to the river and Jeffrey was cawing at some birds floating on top the water. It was Giry, Paulina, however she wanted to be called that day, who caught Mariam's attention, who turned to us still laughing. I almost think she didn't notice Giry, as she shouted "hi, Lily!" so loudly while we were walking forward. She was wearing her fur-trimmed marshmallow coat and bouncing up and down just like an Oompa Loompa again.

I knew when Jeffrey cut right between us, with his hand poised for a shake, that he was the one who asked her out, and probably as simply as one says "hello". You could say there was a type of command in his eyes, bordering on aquamarine in this light, but it was not like the usual kind I had experienced. It was commanding like a fictitiously high-spirited sea captain. He was reminding me of being in a story, just like Erik, but a story from the farthest end of the library. I just reached for his hand before I could plan to be stubborn. He shook it long enough for Mariam and Giry to thoroughly register that I was letting it happen. "It's nice to meet you, Lily."

I agreed it was nice to meet him too; the first time, through words and in a superficially agreeable sense; the second time, internally, when our meeting went on and I found I was able to mean the words. He was fresh-faced, younger than all of us, and it made it easier for me to accept his curiosity at face-value while he asked me all about myself like I had been missing for years. I wanted to know if he was aware Mariam and I had really been avoiding each other, because it seemed that he spoke of me like a busy person who was quiet even with her, but I couldn't ask.

He had a soft hair line, covered in dirty blond peach fuzz. I liked his blue collared shirt against his sun-touched skin and thought he did look like a comfortable place to rest her cheek. He wasn't too tall, so they looked well together, and it wasn't a strain for her to hold his hand, which she did the whole way. Luckily, I was able to keep my eyes off of that sight, but I began looking around in a blank fashion, trying to compare Erik to Jeffrey with these new observations.

I'd never thought Erik seemed old, but I did have a conception that he satisfied, about men always seeming older than their female partners. He didn't have any amount of boyish charm the way Jeffrey did. I suppose it'd be weird if he had. What did "boyish charm" even mean, and why did that make someone like Jeffrey endearing? It was more than looks or mannerisms. I guess it was a sense, as highly presumptuous that he was part of a typical nuclear family as this is, that he had seen his mother a short time ago. And I somehow saw in Erik someone who had been far away from a figure like that for a long time.

We went into a restaurant and he rubbed her shoulders to warm her up like he planned to start a fire from the friction, and Mariam's cheeks, already pink from cold air, rose up so high in a smile for a moment, just to him, that I felt I was looking when I shouldn't. Giry seemed used to the whole thing and had begun to act like this meeting had no questionable circumstances at all, and I tried to seem like her.

"Mariam. I feel like I hardly know you. Since when do you like going out to eat downtown?"

"It's just this one place. You just wait for the drink I get. It's like an iced chai tea with whipped cream in the entire thing."

"Tea? Since when are you drinking tea?"

"Only _this_ tea!"

"You drink _beverages_?!" Jeffrey chimed in. He had been ever so gradually nearing Mariam's hand with a pair of chopsticks, as if he planned to pick up her fingers, but she slapped down his hand and the look they shared resulted in her giggling.

"Jesus, you guys. I feel like I'm on a double-date," I said.

" Well, it _had_ been our plan to get you and Pauly together, but..."

"She's already taken," Giry replied in a sort of knee-jerk reaction, before I could laugh very properly.

"We could have a real double-date-" Jeffrey started.

" It doesn't work that way," Mariam cut him off, half-smiling, but having said enough to throw Jeffrey into confusion, and she realized it. "I mean the double-date thing. Me and Lily would be too shy about it." He looked like he was ready to be curious again, but she saved us all again. "Well, I'm _certainly_ not on a date with you, and never will be, but as long as we're here, I'm starving! What're you getting?"

* * *

After lunch, we did a lot of wandering and bantering about anything passing our way. I knew a lot about him, now. His idea of engineering (his desired field) was testing out hovercrafts, and he had a similarly adventurous spirit about everything he did. He referred to Mariam by her screenname from time to time, as he had met her online, and would would describe "the marimonster" as if she were an animal doing something peculiar or indecent in the wild. He was not 16 until next month. He had two older sisters who once covered every inch of his hair with barrettes. And he begged me to give him Baskin Robbin coupons.

Somehow we ended up at a comic store and where he was looking for something or other, I really wasn't paying attention, so Giry and I ended up strolling around, eyes jumping from cover to cover, on a stimulus overload. Mariam followed Jeffrey everywhere and they ended up having a long side conversation with the shop guy when he was asked for assistance. Giry was caught looking at a display with interest when I took out my phone and began a long text to Erik about going out to eat and chatting (just with Giry, of course), when he asked what we were doing. I knew that she could hear me clicking and clicking, even while I had wandered to a corner with my back turned. When I finished the text and turned around, she was right there, making note of where our company was, and brushing me on the arm. I faced her as she leaned into the wall, bracing myself inside.

"I really want to know why she isn't good for you to him," she reiterated. I just didn't understand why Giry was laying it on me so thick, and with so much concern, and accordingly I rolled my eyes, quite on accident.

"He thinks she's stifling me," I answered in a low voice, watching Mariam instead of looking at her.

"How?"

"Well, when we were fighting, I couldn't do anything with him without getting the third degree."

"Then he's just mad she doesn't like him, is what it sounds like."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Oh, he can be _frustrated_, if he wants, but he's not acting like someone who- Listen: do you think a boyfriend, a real one, the one who wants to be with you, ought to make someone feel like they can't talk to their best friend, even when there was a misunderstanding?"

"I don't think there's a misunderstanding. She doesn't want me to be with someone like him-"

"What does that _mean_?"

I was running out of steam, so I looked her in the eye, and now she seemed to be the one waiting for me to have the right answer, no matter how many times it took me to get it.

"That she's treated him like everyone else he knows, and I don't blame him for thinking what she's said is hurtful, and it's only made matters worse that he hates almost everyone. It's not about Mariam. He has a lot of problems, and a lot of reasons to feel people are dangerous."

"I don't know if he's ready to be in a relationship, then. Frankly," she uttered, directly enough to make my eyes avert, but my answer was quick and certain.

"No. No. I'm helping him. He needs me. If I don't help him, something will happen. A-and it would let him down right now if he knew I was doing this." I really didn't want to talk anymore – her skepticism was legitimately hurting my feelings – but she wasn't through yet.

"You got in trouble for letting him down once, and he acted like his character, in a roleplay, and we let it slide, but if this is really the way you're telling me he is, then you've got to be afraid you'll press the wrong button."

"I really don't want to talk about this right now," was the card I played once again, as if it was a newly discovered solution from hereon. Jeffrey and his girl were reaching the front counter, and he spotted us briefly, almost inviting us to regroup with them.

"Lily, I don't see the chance that he's not going to figure it out."

"I can't be afraid of him," I told her, beginning towards them, and I heard her murmur right behind me

"I'm just saying..."

* * *

At half past five, Mariam was riding in a shopping cart that we found abandoned on the sidewalk and Jeffrey had gone far ahead of us pushing her along and sometimes making her scream her head off, but I told Giry very bluntly that Erik was expecting me back. He began to text me repeatedly after we got out of the comic store, saying Giry "had stolen me quite enough," and that I should probably like to rest before we went out again. I myself wanted to get back, and, although Jeffrey's aim was to make a good impression on me (which he did), he was clearly aglow with affection for my friend, and Giry and I had become a bit like chaperones. I was not even used to being in this position and didn't like it much. I would've been the one pushing the cart, but with him there, I felt I should keep my hands off of it. This was what I worried about.

He seemed to mean it when he said he hoped to see me again soon, though.

"Take care, Mr. and Mrs. Vanhorn," I said.

* * *

We pulled up at the theater again when the sun was finally coming down. If our time together hadn't been so tense, I probably would have told her my plans, but it seemed more natural to keep it to myself. Really, I just thanked her for being around and keeping company with me while they both were smitten with each other, leaving out anything to do with our disagreement. If this was all just a warning that he'd be mad, I wouldn't hear of it. She was aware of something I wasn't, but it appeared to me at the time that she was unable to see how much stronger my bond with him had become, and so I refused to be scared. I let only one thought reach my core: that I wanted to go and find his heartbeat again.

* * *

**Please review me so I know you're reading! :)**


	46. Chapter 46 - Thorn

**HE'S ( ) THERE  
**Chapter 46 - Thorn

Disappointed, disoriented, I'd had enough of heartbeats by the morning. He and I were not together by noon the next day. I was at home taking a frustrated shower, nursing a persistent headache, and I was conflicted about whether or not I wanted to admit what had happened, even though the day would consist of almost nothing but replays in my head. He scared me. Do I talk enough about how he scares me in between all the remarks about his eyes glowing in the sunlight like "crystals in stone" and other such poetry? He was a sharp stone, and I'd cut myself. Why wasn't he everything I dreamed, all the time?

I could ask myself this all day, and I did. Outside was a flood of rain as if the sky had been holding it in and simply couldn't take it anymore, and similarly, I was vacuuming and dusting the empty house with all kinds of repressed obscenities at my lips. Even though one would be blasted with water out there, I was always eying the windows, acutely aware that it may not be a deterrent for someone who could never stay away when I was mad, and he knew I was here alone.

Only on a day like this could it be so satisfying to squirt Windex on the bathroom mirror, to use Mom's lemon-scented wipes to take the water marks off the kitchen sink.

Then I fell into the recliner sideways and curled up like a child.

Well, we'd certainly not had sex.

I had it planned how it might be when we came back from Portland, but things were not that way; they were a way that they had never been before and we had both lost our balance, if that makes any sense.

He was just acting weird when I got back. Not weird like "he knows where I've been", but weird like he was on the verge of losing his strength to be who I knew him to be. I went looking for a heartbeat, thinking of our morning, but his embrace wasn't so tight. I was trying to convince him that the next night we should stay at my house, how there would be no risk at all. I said it may be our only time to ever do it, for a while, but he was not just unconvinced: while I spoke of inviting him into my home and into my bed, in the back of my mind wondering how he couldn't see this as a profession of my trust and closeness to him, I could have sworn it was making him angry. Then, all of a sudden, he wanted to bring up that he would be losing access to the theater in due time, long overdue time.

I mulled it over yet again in that chair. His tone was hard on me, like I deserved to feel knocked down once I knew, then he saw that I had been and from then on adopted an air of disappointment. I wanted to know why I had never been made aware this would happen, and he just answered "I expected to lose you first," then corrected himself: "I didn't know it would, either."

"Why wouldn't be you allowed here?"

"You know I can't talk to you about that."

I thought it was my business, but I got caught up trying to work out a future in which this wasn't our meeting place. It seemed unfathomable. I didn't know what force out there had to keep ruining us, but for the time being I was on the verge of shooting the messenger.

I wanted fresh air so we went outside. There was no point in being outside unless we were on our way to the car. I remember we walked a few feet apart, and a damp night was coming, and the world was tinted blue like we were underwater. By now I'd seen him drive a gold car, a black, and a maroon, and today the gold one was sitting behind the building. I stopped short of getting in and leaned into the car. I asked "is everything too good to be true?" as he joined me, but he said:

"I don't have an answer for that. What's there that stays good forever, anyway?"

"I don't know!"

For a moment, I thought we were having some kind of peaceful agreement about a misfortune we shared, but he began to trail in a very timid fashion: "you already knew how much I don't like this place anymore", and he seemed to hide his face, pressing it against my temple. "For me, try to have some understanding. I don't have as many good memories here as you think."

Oh, how I wanted to just say, like it was a simple matter, that he knew someone here. That I was not some idiot who couldn't put together that he was granted access by someone who knew _him_. If I could say that I knew this, I could urge him to fix the problem. If I could say that I knew this, I'd know whether it was fixable. But I was in no position. I should've been; _I know this now_; but I couldn't dare myself to start arguing about God knows what, just to get what only I wanted.

"You know when I told you that you have to cut loose people who expect what you just can't give them? That's why I'm done here. Are you ready to go?" He broke away from me and said something about the sun going down by the time we were there, and I just got in the car like I was in a vampire's trance.

* * *

By now, in the course of my reverie, my legs were going numb from hanging over the chair, and I pulled myself up all the way and looked out the window again. Where would we go? Why was the rug coming out straight from under us? Why wasn't he everything I dreamed, all the time?

About a half hour later, Mariam called me, no shame at all, and I heard her ringtone for the first time in forever. "Lily. It's raining like a motherfucking asshole. You should come over and play a game with me."

* * *

I wore a coat I didn't usually wear, carried no umbrella, closed the hood in to hide most of my face, and walked on the opposite side of the road until Mariam's house was just a straight speedwalk away. I figured it was so rainy that if some bizarre man who didn't make any sense was watching, he wouldn't think anything of me. Mariam, on the other hand, opened the door and asked "who are you?" before moving out of the way, quite satisfied with my reaction.

"Your parents are both gone?" I asked.

"Yeah, at work."

There was less talking than usual – I suspect Jeffrey had helped give her her confidence the day before – but things weren't otherwise so different. We raided the kitchen, I found the chips, and she got herself a bowl of oreos. She "mood lit" the basement with the lamp on the wall by the stairs and her dangling chili peppers above the couch. We were playing Frogger again, and I heard music that conjured memories about us giggling our heads off, about confessions and "kinks", and it was all prompting me to bring up that Erik had finally told me straight up that he was leaving. The beginning and the ending of the roleplay; at least, that's what it would have sounded like to her. I wanted to tell someone, but both of them would recognize the problem I'd been concealing. She'd ask "well, are you breaking up with him?" And I'd say "no, not quite." "What are you going to do about it, if he'll be gone?" "I don't know." "Why would he leave you?" "He doesn't want to leave me. He wants us to be together." "You can't be together if he leaves." "Not if I stay here."

I wouldn't have that conversation, even if I had no plans to leave. "Lily, what the fuck are you doing, you just jumped off the cliff!"

Laughter was all over the place, outside my head. "I'm sorry!"

I had no plans to leave was what I wished I could tell _somebody_, just so they knew that if anything unexpected happened, they'd... "Give me that, I can do it," she said, and she snatched the controller from my hands. She was singing along absentmindedly to the music which she seemed to know by heart. I wouldn't tell her.

My phone went off and it was Mom telling me the forecast had lied to them and weather was shit and they were coming back tonight because of the flash rain. By the time Mariam knew what I was saying "I told you so" about, she was giggling. I finished up the call and told her with only a weak smile that I didn't think they liked living in Oregon anymore.

"I knew they were going to cave eventually," answered the Oregonian by Birth.

"Yeah, they talk about moving sometimes after I graduate. It never occurred to them I want to go to college here."

"Do you know where you want to go?"

"No, but they use that against me all the time. 'We'll pick a great theatre city!' I'm just not ready."

"Well, get ready. We have to find a school for theatre and science and I doubt it'll be here."

"Why not just a state college? I've been thinking about it."

"But that's boring."

"Well, I don't think so. I don't like talking about moving. I feel like an Oregonian, now, I just wish it would stop raining profusely."

She burst into laughter, then shortly after we were both listening for the sounds of the drizzle down the house. Upstairs, we discovered it was still raining, in very skinny sideways streams that looked like angel hair pasta. All things considered, Mariam wondered why I hadn't at least gone with them. "I told you – I knew it wouldn't be nice enough."

"So you've got the house to yourself?"

She was trying to smile to me intermittently while pouring herself some juice, but we had to hope smiles said enough. We went unusually quiet, and I was certain we both had considered explaining ourselves, before Mariam decided she would open the front door and watch the downpour, shouting such things as "SOME SPRING BREAK THIS IS."

We may have found ourselves a little uncertain every now and then about what to say, but all things considered, we had a sweet afternoon. We had a sweet night. I had dinner with her and her parents without any preparation for explaining why I hadn't been over in a while, but it all happened so suddenly and I always had a hard time saying no to her mom. I didn't say no to sleeping over and happily packed what I could into a single bag and sneaked back through her door. Their house, and the air it had of carrying on with things as they always were, was distracting me as thoroughly as I wanted to be distracted at the time.

It was only at 2:00 that we were finally lying in the dark, in the basement, me on the couch, and her conked out on the floor. She could sleep through a tornado and had dozed off without a blanket, even though it seemed to be freezing to me. I turned off the TV and tried to sleep but couldn't. I was used to a warm house, but more, there was another place so cold, where I may have been that night, perhaps shivering, perhaps not. Twenty four hours before then, he was keeping me warm and asking himself more than he was asking me: "you seem to be at home with your angel, don't you?" I felt my feelings were being denied.

He tried to play around with me when we got back, tried to smile, tried to pull the shades over his own eyes so he could ask loaded questions casually, like about what I expected my future to be like. The change from cold to hot once we were back in that room threw my sense of what was going on completely upside down, and it must have been obvious that these questions made me feel like I was standing on a field of landmines. I barely stepped anywhere. I kissed him a lot and felt saved by the fact that a headache was returning, and only sleep could cure it. He was quiet once I was lying in bed and he realized his game, or whatever it was, hadn't worked, but sometimes he couldn't help but make an odd comment while trying (and seemingly failing) to doze off. He asked if I'd heard from Giry any time recently.

I suddenly got very paranoid and scared. I couldn't sleep. He thought I wasn't conscious when he got out of bed and left, gone for quite some time. I got up and looked out all the windows, trying to find him and to see the direction he was going, but it was never clear whether he'd left the building at all. I tried to lie in bed as if I was asleep, but my eyes were wide open with a gaze plagued with static on the dark door in the corner of the room. I tried to imagine if the two of us had walked out together, carrying everything we planned to keep, and never returned. Or where I'd be if I'd followed him like a ghost. I wondered if he couldn't sleep at night because of the repercussions of his actions. You'd understand why my face began to hide into the sheets tight in my arms, if I could just say what I'd seen.

Couldn't I wake Mariam up and tell her?

But maybe I should tell Paulina, instead. But this kind of thing would spread. This racing heart was getting tiresome, and maybe everyone around me heard it, and perhaps all along I looked as scared as I felt. How obvious it was that something was wrong seemed right then to be a weakness – Lily was tearing at the seams, and soon being saved would feel like being torn all the way. These kinds of things, you tell someone. They are never meant to be secrets.

* * *

When I told him my parents were coming back early and we'd have to cancel our plans, I wasn't sorry about it even though I apologized. I even apologized for being mad that morning, if only to neutralize the situation and keep him from acting on impulse because of the exhilaration he seemed to feel from conflict.

"_**There's nothing to be done about that, so don't apologize. Just stay in touch with me. I hope that whatever it is we argued about will soon be forgotten."**_

I dodged seeing him for several days, and even if I stayed in touch, I would draw out when I responded to his texts to try to keep our conversations from picking up a pace.

The break began with me wanting it to be all about him, and became a break _from_ him. I had excuses, too. I still had a job. Within the first week of the new semester, they were auditioning for Bat Boy and he of all people knew that I was desperate to perform again to preserve my sanity. In fact, I couldn't think of anything more effective than that sense of order that came with hard creative work. I was going to kill someone if I wasn't in Bat Boy.

Mariam was helping me think about the roles for this production, which was a musical, and that kind of scared me. I'd recite lines to her over the phone, but try to sing them with the bathroom fan on, which she noticed was not the behavior of someone who planned to _perform_ these songs in front of an audience that would include one's parents anyway. She thought I should audition for the role of the mom, who attempted to be a decent 1950's style housewife but took charge to keep the bat boy (Edgar) and escape her progressively crazier husband. She did have a lot of blunt and unexpected lines that demanded a dark sense of humor, and we enjoyed the partnership she had with her daughter.

But, then again, she was just a step below the title character. I didn't have the confidence that such an important role was in my grasp.

"Seriously. You can do it. You can _do_ it, Lily. You're a Junior now. You have so much more confidence than you think you have!" Mariam shouted over me when we were driving aimlessly, windows down. I was arguing with her about it while smiling at the treetops. The scent of wet flowers on the pavement was in the air touching my face. "You don't even know. I'm serious! Okay, when you played Vivian – take Jeffrey's word for it; he doesn't have a bias – he saw you before he knew we were friends, and he was like, seriously surprised that we were. He was teasing me sometimes that I was lying or something when I said we were friends since we weren't talking!"

"Why the hell would he think you were lying?!"

"Because... he-he just... he thought that you were one of those heavy-duty thespians who just hangs out with strictly thespian friends and like... Well, okay, he knew that you couldn't be like that character, but that was his idea of you."

"Oh, that's right, the 'fiery brunette'– Hey, do you see the sign, or what? 35mph when it's turning!"

"Nobody's looking!"

"Is there some part in the driving manual about doing whatever you want when the cops aren't around?"

She was climbing up a hill now and down to an agreeable speed, but revved up the gas and grinned that little Oompa Loompa smile. "Fiery lady," she said. "Do the role. Nobody would even bat a lash; they would just see how amazing you are. And I'll be Shelley! Will you do it if I'm Shelley?"

"I-... yes, but I doubt it'll work out that way. Do you even have time for this?"

"Maybe. Maybe I looked it up on my own. And if worse comes to worst, we can be farmers together!"

"Assuming we're in it at all!"

"Yes. Assuming. That is the way that I work."

And she turned up the music in time for us to roll back down the hill and whoop like we were on a rollercoaster. As we went along, we began to see glimpses of water to our left, and the road was dwindling down into a neighborhood sitting just beside the river. Mariam was very keen on finding a place to stop, and eventually she turned into a lot that seemed familiar to me. Our conversation died down. She looked thrilled to have found the dock.

We sat out at the edge for maybe an hour, talking, laughing about really stupid stuff that I won't repeat. She was wondering what I'd do for summer, and her conscience was as fresh as the air. The question was transparent. "I just want to ride my bike around," I told her, quite serious in a way, but I knew she'd laugh. She wanted to travel somewhere. To her, the idea of going somewhere new was promising. A year ago, we may have been considering all the places our parents would be willing to visit, but now she fantasized about taking us wherever we pleased. Nevermind that we were seventeen and it was her mother's car. She made going away seem fun.

On the way back to the car, I was thinking of some decent way to begin a conversation – something to do with us, truly, not with musicals and roadtrips, but she beat me to it. "Lily? I'm sorry that we... didn't talk."

"No, it's okay."

"Well, no, not exactly!"

"I mean I was the one who walked away from you." _I had to stop thinking this was a solution, too._

"Yeah, but I just- I don't think that I should've brought it up at school. I pissed you off, and I just let you avoid me. If I were a good friend, I would've stayed close to you no matter what."

"Well... I feel the same way." She pulled up in front of the library, where I'd told her I needed to visit, and I started busying myself with unbuckling and zipping up my bag.

"Um, if I ever do anything- I mean if we're mad at each other again, let's just s-stay together and be mad at each other, okay? Let's not cut each other off," she suggested, trying to keep it light. I stopped what I was doing and shared a smile with her.

"I think that sounds like a good idea." _Because I'm scared without you. Do you get scared with Jeffrey? I don't think so. I think you were lonely, but you weren't scared._

"Good," she answered. She breathed in like something else was on her mind, and I did too, but we fell short of each other's expectations.

_I've seen Erik strangle someone._

I wondered if I could just say that suddenly. She'd frown, clench her hand around the gear stick, and tell me to stay put. No, Mariam wasn't the person to tell.

"Bye," she said.

"See you later."

All smiles, I stepped out.

* * *

At home, there was a rose lying on the front porch. I was immediately frustrated that this would be placed in open sight with a note telling me I must come to the theater right away, as if he didn't give a damn whether my parents saw it. Was it an emergency?

I didn't want to do this. I was not ready to see him; I didn't want any fucking emergencies right now. I was keeping a secret for him that was making my stomach burn up as I stalled the visit. I stuffed the rose in my bedside drawer, paced around, went in the bathroom to fix my hair like maybe I'd go, then couldn't stand throwing the rose in there like that. I was afraid I'd crushed it by accident. It turned out to be okay, but when I pulled it back out, a sharp prick went into my palm, and when I tried to drop it the way that the thorn hooked deeply into my skin kept it dangling from my hand. I'd held it so tightly, expecting it to be smooth like every other rose he had given me. I keeled over, steadied the stem, and pulled out the thorn, then rolled from my knees to the floor. Such agony from such a small hole. I cradled my hand as the blood ran down.

Eventually, when I pulled myself back up, the note at the top of the drawer was glaring at me. **"Y****ou're the only one who shows any compassion to me."**

* * *

I let the sun set and sat with the heating pad, but the texts began to come about whether I'd gotten the message. At half-past eight, I told my parents I was heading to Mariam's. I told Giry where I was going. I was not expecting on my way up the hill to find them both in Mariam's mother's car, stopping at the curb beside me. They greeted me like they had no idea I'd be there. I came up to the window and found Giry in the backseat, looking very tired.

"Did you get my text?" It was strange, how Mariam just stared at me when I asked, and before Giry could answer she told me to hop in.

"Well, I kind of had plans."

"We won't be gone long. We were just at my house and figured we'd get something to eat. Besides, Giry wants to catch up with you. We could have you back in like ten minutes."

It took me a very long moment to agree. It was like tug-of-war, the way my will split both ways. I felt summoned by Erik and also looking for anything that took me away from that. Maybe in these ten minutes, I was granted by the gods, or whatever there was, a chance to say it. Why else did they come at me like a thunderbolt?

I got in the car and they sped off. Giry smiled at me and said hello, but she was obviously making eye contact with Mariam through the rear-view mirror. When I noticed this, I also caught Mariam's face. She wasn't smiling anymore, and I didn't know where she was driving. Giry wasn't sitting like she was comfortable, and she just seemed so worn out, like she'd been arguing with someone; like she'd had a bad day, or, or, I don't know – her and Mariam were suddenly not getting along so well? That couldn't be it, though.

They acted like they weren't sure where they wanted to stop, while Giry would ask me questions about my break, I guess so I could elaborate on the short answers I'd given her when she texted me out of nowhere these past couple days... Asking what I was doing... And I told her I was with Mariam. My suspicion grew enough for me to straighten up, but when I put my hand on my knee, a sharp pain made me hold it close.

"Are you guys going to pick somewhere, or what?"

"I don't know, maybe we could do something else. We could go see a movie or something," Mariam offered.

"I can't," I uttered. "I have to get back."

"Are you sure?" Mariam asked.

"I'm dead positive."

I saw them make eye-contact again when Mariam seemed out of words. Giry poised herself and tried to say it matter-of-factly: "Maybe you should wait on seeing Erik. It seems like he's a little mad today." I darted my eyes to Mariam so she knew I was not very interested in discussing this there, but her expression didn't change.

"Well I don't have any reason to avoid him just because he's mad. Generally, I'm the person who makes him feel better, so..." I didn't even know what I was saying anymore.

"But he's mad at you."

I looked at her like I couldn't believe she was telling me this in front of Mariam. "Well, then I have to go deal with that, don't I?" By now, Mariam was turning into a lot just so she could turn around. "I want to go back now," I said to her, but Giry laid a hand on my wrist.

"Lily, we're not trying to make you uncomfortable, really. Please. I would've told you through text but it would've been too late."

"We just don't want you to walk into a shitstorm, Lily," Mariam said, with an extremely authoritative air, like my mother.

"I-I, then I guess I have to go over there or he'll just come to me."

"We don't want you to do that-" Giry tried.

"We should come with you."

"Are you insane?! You can't come with me!" I was rigid in my seat now, gripping the door handle and waiting to see the familiar streets. My will was completely inverted; I didn't want to be here, or there, or anywhere.

"It has to do with all of us. We don't want you to argue with him on your own, especially when it's over a bunch of bullshit. We want to stand next to you."

"You can't do that. It's going to look like I'm not on his side." They went quiet, obviously trying to figure out an approach that matched my reaction.

"So... are you saying that you..." I knew where it was going and uttered a cluster of no's, but tried to retain my calm.

"We need to settle it between ourselves. I have to get back there, now. He was expecting me a long time ago, a-a-and I stalled. You know, I was tired... I gotta get back," I repeated. I thought I was going to be sick, now having this resolve. My innards were burning again. "You're avoiding the street. Get back."

"Come on, Lily, please. We just want to help. He's not in a good mood, and," Giry touched my wrist again and I accidentally shook it off. "You shouldn't have to _deal _with it," she finished, her voice raised, her eyes widened and sharp. She glanced at my hand again and just stared at me while I told Mariam where to turn.

She took us to the road toward school, and stopped just beside her street sign. Once I was actually there, my determination to do anything more was gone. I wanted to be on this street, but I didn't want to get out. I unbuckled my seatbelt, waiting for them to hold me back. Tell me they know I'm scared and why, because I couldn't say so. The words. Just. Wouldn't. Come. Out. The entire mess was at my lips, but they wouldn't pull it out for me. If I stayed in the car, I'd admit the degree of our failure. I thought I loved him.

Mariam cradled her forehead in her hands while Giry watched me get out. I started to walk up the street and glanced behind me, but the car stayed where it was until I was turning down the theater road, pushing myself through the shadows of the trees to a place that seemed even more silent than the rest of the night. I found my keys, took the side door, and climbed the spiral stairs, even while all I wanted to do was curl up and grab my stomach.

When I first entered, the room was a dark, empty abyss with the wardrobe standing under a light, as if it greeted me itself. I closed the door and stared it down, walked a ways closer, and could swear somehow it had a presence, and that I wasn't alone, but then Erik, who must have been at the other end of the room, reached the light. He put his hand on the wardrobe's side, and very gently slid his fingers across the wood toward the handle of the door. "It's very nice to see you again," he told me, in such a forlorn way, it was hard to know how to address it.

"I'm happy to see you too," I answered with such a timid voice I didn't know if he'd hard me. I wondered if I should repeat myself.

"I haven't slept for two nights, if it interests you, but I have a gift for you, even if you haven't the time for me." Perhaps he wanted me to respond right away, explain myself or something, but my silence disappointed him, so he opened the wardrobe. He'd found a dress quite like mine, and it was beautiful, of course... But I was too nervous to come closer. "It cost quite a lot, by the way," he informed me, and he seemed to be offended that I was not gushing over it, but at the same time not in the least surprised that I had nothing to say. "You won't be receiving anything fake anymore. Everything between us ought to be authentic, I feel like..."

I stayed silent, but then, so did he. We didn't speak for a solid minute. It began to seem that if I didn't bring it up, no one would.

"I know why you're mad at me."

"_I'm not mad at you,"_ he answered right away, as if that silence hadn't happened. "I can't be mad at you because... it's too late for us to fall apart again... But I feel like you're not taking me for what I'm here for..."

"Erik, I seriously can't do this anymore."

"Do you think I _want_ to feel like you don't care about me? It's torture, wondering if it's in my head, and you make me feel like it's in my head. It's just... I've had more than enough of wondering what's in my head..." He kept turning the knob of the open door, until he covered it up completely by clenching his fingers. I thought of the way that man's body dropped when he tightened his arms around his throat.

How would I ever tell anyone he'd done this? I had come outside and couldn't find him right away, until I searched. I had to wonder eternally who it was and what lead up to that sight. I had to go back inside and pretend I'd never seen it, then we came back from Portland and I slept next to him before he disappeared into the night.

"This one's in your head, Erik. I want you to expel it."

"How do I do that when you do these things to me?" He answered, deeper than before, his face cast down.

"Being with her doesn't mean I care about you less. I'm not going to choose."

"Then you'll never let me get out of here."

"You can go wherever you want! As long as you come back, I don't care if you have to leave!" He had no reaction but stillness, and silence, and suddenly it dawned on me how those words must have hit him. "That didn't come out how I wanted it to."

"You musn't forget how Erik lives, without you..." His voice trailed so lowly, I felt an instinct to approach the door again. "He barely lives at all."

My face met my hand. I gripped my hair and nearly walked in circles like maybe it'd help me find a solution. It seemed cruel that he'd done this to me, even though there was no way to put this in the fine print when I agreed to roleplay with him, to know him at all. I backed into the door. I said "you certainly live _some_ kind of life, and I can't share it with you."

Of course, he pursued me when I walked out the door.

"It would be different if we were somewhere else, and it'd be different if I had you all the time. I'd change. I'd have someone to love me," his voice echoed through the entire stairwell as we hurried downward. "I guess I don't get to have that." I was heading for the exit, but he passed me effortlessly and stretched across the door.

"We have nowhere to go," I said, darting for the other side of the room.

"We do, too. And I can take care of you. If you let me."

"Maybe the way you want to take care of me isn't how I want to be taken care of!"

"What is it that you want, then? I'll give you whatever you want, to leave." He reached and grabbed my hand before I could leave the hall, but before any answer from me, the front doors suddenly opened. There was a tall silhouette, as thin and structured as Erik. He pulled me in the direction of the stairs and I just instinctively ran down. I didn't even try to be quiet. The thought of being caught with him scared me more than the idea of staying here longer. I would have to, now. Downstairs, the light of the room leading below the auditorium showed me the way to the back room. Although it was solid black inside, I threw myself in and closed the door.

It was only 9:15. I thought back when I stayed overnight for the first time and Erik was gone for a while because someone was "impatient" or the like, and they wanted something at no time but then. I wondered if this was them. I was seized by curiosity like a burning itch, and like bait for me to follow, voices were somewhere beyond the wall of the opposite end of the room. I crawled on the bed and I stood against it to listen. I couldn't remember so well, but I thought there might be very narrow windows at the edge of the room, facing out just at the ground's surface on either side of the deck. I know I'd woken up to light with him once.

Too many things were between me and the source of those words, so I used what smarts I had. I opened my phone and used it as light. On each side of the room were two black squares; they looked like paper. I saw Erik's desk chair and brought it to the left corner, then tried to lift one. It was fastened into the wall with tacks, but only a few. I could still hear them talking, so I felt safe enough to pull the tacks out and stuff them in my pocket. I opened the flap and moonlight hit my face. I could see the streetlights along the gravel parking space and the walkway to the side door, beginning its curve, but no people, though the sound grew louder. I was too curious. My hand went for the nob and turned out the glass. It felt like it'd reached into cold water, but I heard Erik now.

"You're mistaken if you think those are in there. I moved them over a month ago."

"Well you put them in the wrong place," said another voice briskly. It was low, and unlike Erik's, it cut through the entire night.

"I put everything under the stage. It couldn't be less confusing. What is it you want?"

"Don't be smart with me. You're leaving it unorganized, and it's costing me. Why do you have a girl around here?"

I froze as I heard the stairs creaking. It was more than just scary that he'd actually seen me, but, further, his tone was lacking that sense of surprise about it.

After a long pause, Erik asked, "Would you really like the details?" Feet further descended and I could see the man's long, dark legs and boots. I was afraid if I watched more, he'd see me, but I caught him just as he wholly came into view. He had a zip-up jacket of faded leather and black gloves, and his hair was short and mostly grey. He carried himself straightly, except his arms dangled, and he stepped away from the building backwards, giving what must have been Erik an expression that was deliberately distant. His weapon was ice. I recognized him, but I dropped down and had my arms over my knees.

The front door from up above slammed and I freaked out. I stood back up so fast, the chair wobbled and I almost fell, and when I reached for the tacks in my pocket, I poked my fingers. It was hard to resist yelling "fuck!", but I bravely and silently re-stuck the paper to the windows. While I was doing this, I was surprised it had taken Erik so long to return to me, then I heard what was unmistakably the sound of a cluster of piano keys hitting all at once. My body reacted with a shudder, as if each key had been stroked up my spine, and then there was a thud. After a short pause, a heard a buzzing noise somewhere downstairs, and a rush against the floor which stopped just outside. "Christine!" He shouted through the door. I opened it to a silhouette. "Step aside," he ordered, only leaving a small moment of time for me to do so before rolling the piano inside.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to play for you."

"You don't have to."

"Then I'll play for me."

"Please-"

"Because if I don't, I don't know what I'll do." He flicked on a light clipped to the music stand that made the piano keys a dull blue, and he played something fast and jumbled. The night was getting progressively more uncomfortable and bizarre as I stood nearby, glancing down the hall, feeling the low notes tremble into the floor.

"Well, who was here?!" I finally asked, and Erik just laughed.

"I really can't pick. Like Richard, his temper is record-setting. Like Moncharmin, he only pretends to know a thing about music."

I rubbed my hands together nervously, and my tack and thorn pokes stung. "What happened?" He didn't answer, but went off on some musical tangent like the answer was in code.

"It's external."

"External to what?"

"To my sphere of caring."

"And what if it's not external to mine?"

He stopped playing and answered "then you're _too curious_", followed by a harshness in his hands as they made new contact with the keys. His dexterity used to charm me, but it looked like he'd lost control of it and would now destroy everything good. He wasn't looking at me at all, so he didn't read my confusion, or my pain.


	47. Chapter 47 - The One to be Trusted

**Author's Final (?) Note:  
****Hello. I wish things could wrap up better here, but there's not much I can do about that. I tried to coerce you into reviewing so we could stay in touch while I posted, it didn't work, so I stopped posting the new chapters I was/am writing. Then no one anywhere else responded to me, either. I figured as long as I'm in the Writer's Black Hole, I'll bring all my sites up to date, without caring about feedback, and make the announcement that only my closer friends will be reading from here until the end. After I drastically revise (using their help), I'll pursue publication, with news of all that posted at the website, FB page, and writing journal.  
**

**These chapters will stay up and I'll be contactable, but if you desire to read to the end (CH48-55), get yourself a livejournal account and contact me so I can send you a friend request. However, if you want to be involved with the final chapters, you have to be there to give me feedback to use towards the second draft, so anyone who just lurks won't be privy to them for long.  
**

**Anything else to say? I wish the relationships I've had here had lasted instead of drifted away. I'm sorry that because of my long hiatuses I lost a consistent readership who felt comfortable reviewing. Even still, I put my heart out there with this story and was lucky to receive encouragement, so thank you, everyone, for six years' worth of that. I connected with some awesome people whom I hope come out of the cracks again.**

* * *

**HE'S ( ) THERE  
**Chapter 47 – The One to be Trusted

Somehow, I walked out of there without being stopped. On my way across the basement hall, I didn't know if I'd make it; I heard his music faltering. I still hear the momentary cacophony in my head, but it returned to something orderly as I was climbing the stairs. I think he wanted to stop me. I'm certain that I angered him more than I ever had before. But I'm grateful that I heard that anger within the keys and not in words. I'm glad I never felt his anger on me.

I was home by a quarter to ten and my parents didn't think anything weird about it. This would be my last night for a while of such complacency about where I'd been.

Despite the fact that I could barely stay seated and kept looking to my phone, I did what was my only promise of order: I opened up my Bat Boy playbook and memorized all that I could... for a while.

_The weather would be perfect if it weren't quite so hot,  
I fear we're out of sandwiches; that butler should be shot.  
But won't you stay the night? We're having dinner on the yacht!  
Now ready, or not! ...Show me what you've got!_

At 11:30 I found the nerve to call Giry and hope she wasn't busy, or asleep, or mad at me. She was a quick answerer. Told me she had literally just walked through the door after Mariam dropped her off. I told her what I'd seen.

* * *

Several nights ago, Erik and I were downtown. It was supposed to be a short visit after we both agreed we were tired, and after I'd been relayed the news that the theater would soon be a thing of the past. He was giving me too much time to think while we were in the car and while we were walking. It got dark and started to pour again, and he held his umbrella over my head, as usual. Getting his other shoulder wet, as usual. I was supposed to go into a few stores he had chosen and pick the dress I liked most, and of course he told me not to worry about size at all. Whatever it was, he could have it tailored. I wished things were how they were the night he was measuring me. That sort of feeling of wanting to replace the dress out of pure inspiration and care for me? I didn't entirely feel it even though he smiled from time to time. He did so without entirely looking at me when I fixed his hair from falling over his shoulder.

He didn't come with me in the stores. They were exclusively vintage collections, and I was advised not to look at price-tags at all. I was told to be following my heart and nothing else.

So he'd wait outside. And because of that, I was always thinking about how long I was taking in the stores. I'm not sure why, but when I left, he was never waiting right around the corner. I was supposed to text him to say I was coming out soon, and as I was coming out the door, he would usually be striding from across or down the street. We'd never stay in one place once he was there; I'd have to immediately walk & talk about whether I'd seen anything.

At the last store, I was getting tired of searching and was fairly certain I'd found my favorite at a previous store: the one he presented to me in that wardrobe, although it continues to have only negative memories attached for me, so there's nothing else to say about it for now. Anyway, I got tired of searching, as I said. I texted Erik and left right away, figuring I'd get fresh air; the place was a little stuffy. We were way downtown by now. Past anywhere I recognized. I was looking for him without any luck and wondering if he might be coming around the corner. Then I realized that right in the alleyway were two men in dark colors, struggling stiffly and quietly, and that one of them was Erik. The entire time, he was attempting to hook his arm around the other man's neck. When he managed it, he held his wrist in place with his other hand. Even though the man squirmed for a few seconds, he limped completely and Erik laid him on the ground, as if he were putting him to bed. He never turned around before I backed away and ran back into the shop. The clerk was confused and clearly asking me what I was doing by her mere expression, but I never answered. I fumbled through my purse like I was looking for something until Erik came in front of the store. The vision of him out there, in the dark, startled the clerk, I remember. I think she thought for a second that I was running from him, and I'll never forget it.

I came out to him and pulled off a magnificent performance. After all, I was exhausted. I pulled it off so well that while I was hoping we'd find the car soon, I almost walked into traffic. I swear he seemed more energized after what he'd done. He told me not to trust the crosswalk signs at night and put his arm around my waist. He kept me close when the streetlights weren't hitting us.

I kept looking for signs that he was aware what he'd done. I was hoping it'd come up and he'd for some reason be honest that something had happened. I didn't know or want to believe he'd killed anyone – he could have easily just knocked him out. He could have been in trouble. Didn't he feel nervous? I never got the impression anything out of the ordinary had happened to him.

We got to the theater and I thought of how it frankly looked like he'd been stabbed in the leg a couple months ago. How he dodged the question about being mugged; how he said he'd been "careless". I thought of several other times knowing him when I got close and found that some part of him was tender. This couldn't have happened over and over... For that to be true, I didn't even know how. Was it the same exact person? Maybe he had knocked him out.

Maybe he'd sent him straight to sleep.

Erik never brought it up before I needed to "sleep off a headache". I hated lying next to him that night.

* * *

Giry wasn't sure what to say.

In all other situations, she had been clear-minded; my rock. Now, a plan of action and of thought seemed to escape her. We talked about my time with him that night, if I was home safe, and what seemed to be his temperament when I left. The relief I felt confessing to her gave me hope that somehow things would improve, and that she'd come up with advice, but she was just so quiet.

Mostly, she said "I'm really worried about this" and "we need to be careful."

It was almost too repetitive the way she came back to these concepts, and I started to feel queasy hearing about it. We were supposed to talk the next day after auditions.

* * *

They had auditions at 3:30 at the theater for Bat Boy and I knew I wasn't all there, but I tried. So hard. I hadn't seen Mariam all day, and she wasn't there, so I pushed myself through it all alone, singing Mrs. Parker's "A Home for You" off key. Then on my way out, I heard a voice that made me lose all my focus on what I was doing. I was looking for something mint in my bag to calm my nerves, and just halted altogether at the sight of the grey-haired man with sharp black eyes, who stood at that front desk, who came out of the mouth of the theater road in that black truck that took forever passing whenever it saw me... who knew my Erik too dangerously well. It hit me like I'd just stuck a fork into an outlet. I collected myself and sped by the lobby, and returned home, hoping to drink some tea and receive a text from Giry about when she was coming.

Things happened differently, though.

To be honest, although I've always tried to keep these months of my life in vivid memory, this was one of few times that I deliberately chose to block out as if it had been a long drawn out nightmare. I tell myself it's no good to think about what you may truly be afraid of. Sometimes confrontation doesn't help you conquer your phobia.

I carelessly stepped through the threshold to find my parents both standing up in the living room, staring at me. I wondered if Erik had done something or left something that made them suspicious, although it was never like him to get caught. Worse, I wondered if I'd left some strange evidence of our interactions around the house, although that was never like me, either.

Here's what had happened:

Mariam had visited.

Mariam had told them everything she knew.

It really did feel like a nightmare in my deepest cycle of sleep, and not any type of reality, because in my reality there was a law by which my parents were incapable of speaking of or even knowing about the story I have told you up until this point. And, now, they threw the words back and forth, looking to me for confirmation: Erik, stranger, relationship, mask, danger, threats. I remember when my mom said his name, it felt like I was looking at myself as a grown woman, looking back on the horror of it all, asking her past self what it all meant, and why it meant so much.

They wanted to know who he was, and they kept asking over and over. I kept speaking the truth, that I didn't know, and they grew even more frustrated. They wanted to know why I never told them about him and if I was truly seeing him all the time, and they couldn't quite believe it because they had seen me so often around the house. I was not about to explain I sneaked out. I told them repeatedly that nobody was stalking me and then the conversation seemed to go on forever about Mariam being upset and scared, and I had no idea what could trigger such intense fear, all of a sudden, that would inspire her to turn my home-life upside down. "Mariam says you're not in a healthy relationship," Mom said. "Why would she say that?"

None of their questions were rhetorical; far from hysterical, they were calculated and would wait for answers that I didn't have prepared, so I just stared up at them as they hovered around the other side of the coffee table. I was trying to keep my emotions at bay, but I could feel my legs twitching.

Then they asked me if we'd had sex, and that just broke my last straw. I was so embarrassed and furious that I screamed "no!" and went to burrow inside my room. Everything felt like it was going to fucking implode; that even while I tried to escape, it was getting closer to me at a terrifying rate. I didn't leave the room for who knows how long, but soon my dad was knocking at the door. "Erik," – "Erik," he said – "doesn't seem right with us." I shook my head with my eyes closed, disbelieving that my dad had any idea about how Erik seemed, and yet he spoke as if he knew him, as if he were a man of both of our worlds.

I remember I looked to the window and just wanted to jump. I considered it; I really did. I opened the window, removed the screen, and then realized while inspecting the tree near the house – slippery, moss-covered, and promising to break my neck – that I was losing my head. My shaky hands set down the screen and I lowered onto my bed. I turned to face the eyes of the monkey, and I resolved to pick up Lily's pieces and have some bit of control, of strength. I asked myself how Erik would've wanted me to handle the situation, and the clearest thing to surface was that I should protect what could be protected. To see which details they knew, and which they did not. After all, if it was Mariam who told them, and Mariam with whom I was always on my guard, she wouldn't be able to expose our greater secrets.

I went to confront them as if I had become a robot, an agent of Lily who was not invested in her affairs but could take questions to the best of its ability.

"How did this all start?"

"_Like any relationship does. We met and got to know each other."_

"Where did you meet him?"

I didn't answer that one.

"How is this some kind of roleplay?"

"_It wasn't supposed to be dangerous, if that's what you're wondering, and he isn't a stranger. His real name _is_ Erik."_

Now, especially, I couldn't find the remorse in lying. As nothing was consistent with reality, I barely saw the point in being consistent myself.

My mom looked me in the face and began to ware down on me, questioning if I understood what stalking, how I could claim everything was fine when my boyfriend made all my friends worry he possessed me, that danger followed any attempt to pull me away. I was getting confused about what Mariam had said, about what I even knew myself, but the white-lies kept pouring.

"_What she fails to mention is that they don't get along and both have tossed some bad words at each other, suggesting they deserve more time from me. That's why she thinks he's being possessive. He has no desire to break me off from my friends. You've seen me with Mariam just the other day."_

"Why are you skipping school?"

"_I have only skipped school once. I went to see him so he could help me go over my lines."_

"Does he go to your school?"

"_As far as I know, he doesn't go to school. He's just a little older than me. He has a job," _I explained, working from my conjectures.

"Why is he interested in a high school girl? What is his connection to you, Lily?"

"_He thinks I'm interesting. Is that such a crime? He used to go to school here, and he was part of the theatre group. We've had plenty of things to talk about. I told you he's not much older."_

"We want to meet this person," they finally said. I'd gotten them to sit down and we were all quiet, but tense, in the dining room, shifting our eyes between one another. They were calmer but very little satisfied. I looked down to my hands, sweaty, and could only shake my head.

"_You can't," _I said._"I don't think either of us wants to be scrutinized."_

"Lily," Mom cut in, much more sharply, "you can forget about what you want. Mariam is your best friend. As long as I've known her, she's been smart and trustworthy, and I don't believe she's making stuff up. You, on the other hand... I have no idea."

"_You think I'm lying?"_

"I think you aren't being truthful, and you think you can work around us. If there's nothing wrong with him and everything's as simple as you say, this shouldn't be such an issue."

"_I-I deserve some privacy. I knew if I brough it up, I'd never hear the end of it."_

"You've got no chance of hearing the end of it until we meet him."

For a conversation that was supposed to be about a r belationship I was having, we went in circles about Mariam's credibility. They believed her more than they believed me; they saw me starting to shake again. "Mariam never talks to us, Lily. Why do you think she would just come out of nowhere and say stuff like that? She was terrified for you! Why would she be terrified for you?!"

"_I told you already that she's misunderstood what's been happening."_

"Then why aren't you telling anyone the truth?!"

It all came back to this no matter how much I argued. I argued until I was grounded. Mom, who won every fight we had ever had, reiterated that Erik would be taken here if I ever wanted to see him again, and I leaned back in my seat, exhausted. I realized, now that we had had another bout of silence, that there was black outside the windows, and the room felt boiling to me. I had to find a way out; even a robot had its limits, and I was about to reach them.

I looked my mom in the eye, the one who clearly spoke for the both of them, and I began to nod, slowly, as if I had realized something important, even if it devastated me. "I'll see if he's available," I told her. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got homework to do for the rest of the night, now that you've wasted half of it." They didn't seem to have anything further to add, even as my chair slid back under the table and I stood there, averting my eyes, but listening for some final word. I turned my back and left the room, and began to drag myself up the stairs. But, instead of reaching my bedroom, I went into the bathroom, blasted the faucet, and cried my eyes out.

* * *

They never saw me or heard from me the rest of the night, but I was upstairs, curling up in bed, with my stomach and my head both aching. The stomach, from stress, the head because I wouldn't dare leave the room to bring back some dinner. I couldn't look at them. That hard personalty I had at the dining table wore off like a spell as I climbed the stairs. I was weak, vulnerable Lily – her parents' very glance would destroy her.

I had all sorts of ideas running through my head, though. My most daring, so far, was that Erik and I would find someone to take the place of him and meet my parents. He would explain away all of the misconceptions, maybe say that we had chosen to call it all off now that he knew it was causing so much trouble, to have some kind of normal friendship from here on out. It was nonsense, looking back on it. My ideas were going to fuck me over if I tried to keep up with them, but I knew at least one true thing – Erik would never meet my parents. Never. He would not be that man, nor would I let him be. I would see to it that he was stuffed back into secrecy, his safest place. _Our_ safest place.

I hated what he had been doing lately, the way he had been making me feel for months now, but it was not the reason I never contacted him as promptly as I thought I would. I just didn't know what to say. He had anticipated that Mariam and I would have a true fall-out, and it just happened, making him so frustratingly right. Then, out of the blue, my phone beeped, I rolled over, and he asked if I was okay.

He ignored me leaving while crashing his hands into his piano the previous night, and now he asked if I was okay.

I sat up straight.

"_No, I am not,"_ I responded.

_Beep._

"_**You know where to find me."**_

I started to cry all over again, and I sent him a long, dramatic text, a text I know fragments of still but wouldn't dare repeat. But he answered all the same.

"_**You know where to find me."**_

I waited until my insides felt hollow, but when no one, anywhere, was stirring anymore, I found my way out of Hell and ran full speed up the street, looking behind me once or twice with my hair whipping in my face. Fuck all of it. Goodbye to you, tonight, Lily. Being her was so uncomfortable and scary at that moment, but being Christine was too difficult. I really didn't want to be anybody anymore. I pretended when the trees drooping over the theater road engulfed me with their shadows, that I was gone. I was a shadow, too.

I came to the side door out of breath with my legs tingling. When I pushed the key into the lock, the door was shoved open without me turning it. I thought I'd find him there, but only a few, dim lights cast over the auditorium. I passed the front row and went for the other door, I searched the hallway, and started down the stairs, when the door from which I had entered clicked open.

I just jumped for him. I didn't realize my knees were going to buckle until he caught me by my heavy arms and sunk with me. He seemed to know my innards had crumbled long before that moment, reducing me to ash in his arms, only held together by him. I was ready to tell him I'd had such a nightmare, one so vivid and never-ending that I woke up still in a panic, and I just needed a safe place to rest my head. He smelled like the forest; like pine-needles, or smoke. I squeezed his shoulders and kept breathing in. The relief was so intense that it didn't even dawn on me that if he knew what had happened, the way his text suggested, he should have been even more furious than before, and yet there was nothing more about him besides his warmth and silence. I began to doubt if he truly knew as that moment stretched on, and, worse, imagined being the messenger of that information. It would've been the thing to finish me off. He scared the hell out of me, but I was in his arms anyway.

The first thing I decided to say was that my stomach was killing me, and he apologized.

"No, it's not your fault."

"But it's my responsibility," he said, brushing tears from the corners of my eyes, but I didn't like the contact. I covered my face and the floor suddenly dropped out of view, and he carried me downstairs.

He watched me curl over on the side of the bed in the basement room, holding my hollow stomach with one hand and gripping the mattress with the other, trying to keep my composure. He tried to kneel in front of me and hold my hand, and I accepted the comfort for a moment, but... eventually I let go of him and started crying all over again.

It wasn't just my parents finding out, it was every single fucking thing that had happened the past couple months and the fact that I was trying so hard to make everyone think I was fine, that he was fine, that _we_ were fine, just leave us alone, stay in the dark about the details, pretend Erik doesn't hate her, and pretend she doesn't hate him. Pretend there's no choice to be made and no serious risks. Calm him down and go back home.

Everything I'd done to clean up after this relationship I couldn't resist was impossible to try ever again. I had to wake up tomorrow and stand by him and all of the terrible things that he came with, or lose him.

He came right to my side and tried to have me hold him tight, but my body kept trembling, and it hurt to fend of sobs more than it did to let them go. Luckily, for me, he hadn't a clue that this was a reaction to more than that night's happenings. He held to me and rested his face on my shoulder, waiting for me just to breathe normally again.

"Please don't be so afraid," he told me. I seemed to be the only one freaking out and it didn't make sense. He just sat through it all, with occasional interceptions that downplayed the severity of this exposure. I was angry that he got to wear a mask all of the time and run away where no one could find him, and I didn't. He had no one he worried would discover what he was doing and disapprove so strongly, I thought... for a split second.

"What do I do?" I asked him, voice quavering out of embarrassment, almost, that he had been right, and that I was helpless. "_What do you do?!"_

"...I wait for you to let me leave."

I squinted my eyes shut and dreaded what this encounter would then become, but the silence I started stretched on. I remember so much silence there, in stark contrast to the explosion of words in the dining room, and to his chasing of me the night before. It was a gift I accepted. I wondered all about him, things he wouldn't guess I wondered. I had no understanding of this disapproval before, but I knew that it slashed you deeply, and it made you go looking for something to fix you.

After some time, I laid down and he sat next to me, stroking my side. My eyelids were heavy from the pain in my head, but even as I closed them, I knew that the one next to me, exercising his greatest hospitality and respect, had a storm of thoughts. For every word he didn't say to me, there must've been twenty of them inside. The music notes clashing when I left – I still heard them in my head. I knew he had been outside, just to walk it off; to contain a kind of animosity I could never share.

I remembered that, even if he was the only one who could hold me together at the moment, I could never let myself turn into him, or feel hatred, or react to it. No matter how much I desired to carve a new path in my life, I couldn't go so deep that I couldn't see light anymore – not like him.

"I remember you said she was right to be worried. Didn't you? Why did you say that?" I asked all of the sudden, and I'm not sure why.

He didn't answer.

"Why did she tell them?"

He sort of pet me at the waist, thoughtlessly, giving his attention to what seemed to be the books in the corner of the room. "Despite everything I've ever said to her..."

"I thought we were being so careful."

"Erik..."

I went on, hoping some part of my thought process would prompt his response. "What are we going to do to fix this? For us, for them..."

"You're not doing anything for anyone else," he cut in, like a razor blade on my last word. He harnessed that aggression as soon as he saw my reaction to it. "I knew this would happen," he continued, as softly as if he were waking me, and he sat even closer and gently turned me on my back. "And I know you're trying to hold things together, but it doesn't make any sense anymore. It's over."

"No, it's not," I answered, with no conviction.

"What do you have anymore that you were trying to keep all this time, by shying away from me? What do you have to go back to? Except everyone fighting against you?"

"I have to fix it."

"No,you don't. That's how people always make you feel. That it's your responsibility to fix everything."

"But I want to fix it!"

"You know, I'm the only one who does what they say they'll do. I'm not like Mariam. I don't pretend I'll keep your secrets. I'm not like Paulina, because she's prone to having different motivations than she says. I won't make you think I accept you until the last minute, when you do something true to yourself, like your parents, like everyone... You can't trust any of them. _I'm the one to be trusted from hereon._"

All of his words were spiked with his own experience, and I could hear it in what grew to be a trembling pronunciation of them, and they pressed upon me like a physical weight. A vibrant person with any amount of self respect would have been ready to fight him, and I had before, but I laid there defeated. I admitted I didn't know anymore what I could say to them, Mariam and Paulina, and that my parents were a hopeless case, but while his hands were around both my wrists I lost what had been a blank stare at the ceiling, and tears distorted my sight. I laid there feeling like I was suffocating while he stared at me, his aggression dissolving. In a way, I was glad I was getting upset again, because I earned his compassion again. _"I'm sorry,_" he tried. _"I understand your instinct. I understand it."_

I could practically scream that he had no idea what he was saying, or what lied behind my tears. Even so, somehow, the kisses on my neck kept me tranquilized, and kept me down.

I wanted to curl up and for no new day to start. I wanted an endless night in which I could run through the forest, alone, and reach the river. I could jump in, and cool water would cover every inch of my feverish body.

Erik was bent over next to me, and he looked equally exhausted. I suspected he too was fighting with his own demons once the two of us went quiet; that there were things I didn't understand about what this meant for him. Some part of him looked defeated, too, like he wasn't sure anymore, like he was tired of being himself, like a few nights ago. I began to wonder about something I had never questioned before: if it was even fair, to him, to try to do this anymore. Maybe the whole thing had put him in more trouble and more pain, and I contributed, simply by avoidance of the topic, to the _delusion_ that he and I could leave when I was ready. By letting him be troubled, I had failed at my sole responsibility to actually show him compassion.

I sat up and told him the state of my house, and we tried to agree on some course of action. I wasn't going to let anyone think they could take away what I wanted to have, so I wouldn't be pretending we were ending the relationship. "You'll say as little as possible," he advised me. "You'll fight for your right to see me, and for what we have being between us, and not for them to scrutinize."

I kept letting escape my frustration that this would only keep the problem at bay for a little while, but he would just agree with me, and he didn't have a clear answer what he planned to do himself to help me get through this. I got the impression he wouldn't help me.

And it certainly grew stronger when he walked me to the mouth of the theater path, never letting himself be clearly seen to anyone on the main road. "I'll be ready whenever you want me to be. Will you at least remember that?"

* * *

Tree after tree passed me as I wandered farther away from the road. I had to protect my tired eyes from the rising sun as it passed a narrow strip of clear sky below a wall of clouds. With me was a tin filled with every note I had ever received from Erik, and a notepad I had been keeping to copy all of his text messages, and mine, from as early back as I had decided to document them. It was up to date, and my phone was empty. He no longer even had his name in my contact list. His number was on a scrap of paper in my pocket.

In my other hand was a shovel.

When I'd found the spot, the clearing with the giant rock to which he'd once brought me, I lowered to a place at its side and began to dig. Lucky for me, the ground was moistened from rain and easy to turn up, otherwise I don't know if I would've had the strength. About a foot in, I stopped. The tin was lowered and covered, and I picked up the shovel and walked away immediately.

It was still an hour before school, but my parents had both left for work, thank God, thank every fucking God. They assumed that I was asleep behind my closed door, and, now, there was no one to stop me from spreading half my body over the kitchen counter as I waited for a cup of coffee to heat up.

There had been very little sleep for me. Giry had this to say in the middle of the night: "You need to end this", and then I couldn't even keep my eyes closed, even though I was extremely tired, and tossed myself into all thinkable positions. On top of being scared to hear Giry go into any more elaboration, I was worried what he might do to react to this breech, and I was unsure if I would keep the privacy I once took for granted. My parents weren't usually hard-asses, but this time I wasn't sure what would happen. I hadn't seen them look at me the way they had the night before. It seemed wise to stay up just to think out all of the ways I could have my bases covered, so that brought me to burying a box of notes at seven-thirty in the morning.

* * *

I braved the line of fire a second night.

My dad did the asking while my mom pretended she was minding her own business in the kitchen, like some kind of Good Cop/Bad Cop tactic, but I sent him in circles until Mom intervened and was eventually crying tears of frustration. I went to my room and cried as well, and thus was too tired to respond when Giry texted me, again. "If we could talk soon, that'd be lovely."

* * *

By a certain point, I realized Erik had vanished somewhere. His feelings, his new strategy (if he had one), and his whereabouts were a complete unknown. Being cut off from him made me feel like I was on a desert island, and I spent much of my free time, in all the metaphorical sense, kicking up sand and pacing about the shore. This was in addition to not being allowed to go anywhere besides school and to both my parents stepping to press their ear to my door and make sure I was still there, or to eavesdrop on a phone conversation, as if I'd be having any...

Was he going to leave me all alone in figuring this one out while he was in denial that I'd do anything but run away with him? Was that really what was going to happen? Now that I had some time to get used to the fact that I'd been broken into a million pieces, I had room to be angry. I couldn't even believe that when I last saw him I was starting to think it might be the result of_ my_ failure that he was giving me such an ultimatum!

* * *

What a stupid thing I did, waiting for him in the attic. I told him I'd be there, stood in that room for a half hour (which had been cleared of all his possessions, except for that wardrobe) and thought the pressure would bring him to me. He didn't show up. His absence was as official as ever.

I thought to leave but by the time I'd come downstairs, took the side exit, and swept around the bend, a black truck was sitting squarely in front, and the engine was just stopping. The man's boots hit the gravel. I couldn't be sure if he saw me yet, but I tried to pretend he didn't, and that I had an escape route around the back of his car. In retrospect, I could've gone back the way I came and ran into the forest, but running on little sleep the past few days had made me a dumbass, apparently. As soon as he turned to cross the front of the truck, I thought I had no choice but to dart, but the sound of my own steps betrayed me.

He shouted "hey!" as if he were a cop stopping some juvenile delinquent, which was a very startling tone that I wasn't used to. I hadn't even broken into a run yet and he was already approaching me, sharply focused, sending that fork-in-an-outlet feeling into my body once more. I clutched my scarf like a safety blanket and couldn't help but stare into his eyes, afraid somehow that I would disrespect him even though I didn't know him, but I had reason to believe he owned the theater. There were some other things I had great reason to believe, even if I never spoke of them... He towered over me and crossed his arms. "Are you from the school?" He asked, in that deep, icy voice.

"Y-yes, I am."

"What are you doing around here?"

"I just... I take a walk through the woods and... just come towards the theater on the way back."

"Yeah, I saw you the other day at the crack of dawn. It didn't look like you were taking a walk," he answered with a humorless smile. I smiled back in defense, feeling great fear, but trying to keep it somewhere safe. "What's your name?"

"Dana." If he knew this was a lie or not, I couldn't tell. "I have to go. I didn't mean to bother you," I said, and I tried to walk away.

"Dana," he stopped me, "this isn't the place to look for him anymore." I turned to walk, but worried that would acknowledge what he said, so I stumbled and added:

"I don't—"

"And you shouldn't, anyway—"

"—Know what you're talking about..."

I finished in a whisper of most transparency and pretended I didn't hear him while walking away.

* * *

Giry finally changed a great deal of things.

On Wednesday, I went to school and endured that alien environment, and Mariam, who had kept herself out of my sight very well, turned the corner without expecting me to be there. She looked at me as if she'd seen Death itself and figured she ought to just turn around before it noticed her, but in that brief amount of time that I saw her, she looked like a slightly different person. Her hair was done the same as always, she had her cute clothes and bracelets, but she looked as tired as me. She looked as though she had never once showed me how to be free on the stage, as though she was never the one who spoke for the both of us, who turned the music up in her car.

As I was sitting in the library during break, it seemed likely she'd come to use one of the computers. When I got up to watch where she was going, she confirmed it by taking a seat at one of the older ones at the A porch, and she just sat there, alone.

I didn't overthink it – she knew I was upset, she knew Erik was mad... He may have even said something to her, but I never figured it was much. The day went on, I had Humanities, and for a short while I felt a little bit normal because Mr. Frackson was smiling at me again and Dana, the one of my few friends who was blissfully ignorant about my catastrophic personal life, was paired with me for an exercise.

The pain in my stomach was coming again about finishing up fifth period and going home. As I was getting my things, a voice spoke to me from the other side of the locker door, and I checked below it to find the black boots I knew so well. I slammed the locker shut.

"Lily," Giry started, her voice nearly an octave lower than usual. "Didn't you get any of my messages?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't allowed to call anyone."

"We _really_ need to talk. Like, today." She was right next to me, keeping me near, touching my arm with a hand as cool as window glass.

So we walked down the street to my house. Since Erik was AWOL, and I was desperate for communication by now, I didn't care how overt it was that we were together, but I couldn't help but feel like she was glancing at me, in a sort of suspicious way, as if my appearance would give away something she couldn't decide without it. Whenever I glanced back, her discreet observation was hidden by her long, auburn hair, which was pulled all to the front on the side facing me, rippling over her dark, worn coat. For the first time in a while, the sun was hitting both of us, and we were very pale creatures under it.

"How have you been?" She asked.

"Kind of a mess." She sighed under her breath.

"I can figure. I haven't had a good week, either."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just worried about you, didn't make a few schools I was looking into... And I broke up with someone I was seeing on and off..."

Even though she was giving me information, I felt like I suddenly knew her less. As the house neared, I saw that the garage was open, and Dad was home. "You can act like everything's fine, right?"

Without really looking at me, she answered "I don't see the point, but sure."

We entered the house, my Dad could hear that there were two of us, and he turned to investigate. She smiled for me the entire time I explained we needed to speak for ten minutes. He was more lenient than my mom, thank goodness. He let us go.

When my bedroom door was finally closed behind us, she didn't waste another second telling me she thought I should end it all with Erik as soon as possible.

"Why?"

"Well, it's... It's kind of become obvious in the last few weeks what type of person he really is, and I really do think he's_ legitimately _crazy_. _You probably have no idea what's been going on with Mariam, do you?" It was obvious the way I stared at her, unbelieving, that I didn't, but I waited for an explanation. "And I actually didn't know until she told me, because Erik has just completely shut me out. I-I got the impression that he hasn't been around here lately, but I don't know. Have you seen him in the past couple days?" I shook my head.

"What happened with Mariam?" I braved myself to ask.

"Oh, he's just been... scaring the shit out of her, basically. Making her feel awful and like she's being watched 24/7."

She was leaned right against my door, and I tightened up, worried my Dad was eavesdropping. I asked her to step towards me and tell me the rest with her voice down, but she wasn't interested in being secretive. "I don't see what the point of hiding it is. She's already told your parents."

"Well, I didn't want that to happen, and I'm trying to make it go away."

"Lily!" Her outburst was entirely unexpected. It wasn't the kind of Giry I was used to. Without looking her in the eye, I asked in a soft voice if she'd please speak to me away from the door, and we finally came beside the window. When I dared to glance, she was wording her answer in her head with visible lines in her forehead.

"Okay, let me explain. He's long since wanted you guys not to be friends. Which I already thought was weird, but um... then he would bother me about it. He basically wanted me to be the buffer between you, to... to see if you were even having any conversations with her and what they were about, but I tried to cover for you, 'cause I knew that you were trying to hide your friendship from him. I didn't think it was the smartest to hide that from him, 'cause he figured it out pretty quickly, but... I'm glad that you talked to her anyway, because, you know, it's totally your right to do that, and he's...infringing upon your rights."

I swallowed sourly and didn't say a word.

"But when he found out, he didn't take it out on you. He took it out on Mariam... and _me_. Um, not as much; I think he knows that he can't fuck with me the way he tries to fuck with her," she explained, leaning forward, raising her hand repeatedly, then returning it to her side, where her thumb began to roll over the inner sides of her rings. Her eyes settled on the monkey again. "He's been sending her, just... _nonstop_ messages. A couple nights ago, a-and she showed me, he-he-he... he literally crashed her inbox – the inbox on her phone. She had to spend an hour deleting messages and getting popups saying her phone was full even after she deleted them."

"What did he say?"

She paused. "'Soon, I will elliminate you'," she stated matter-of-factly, watching for my reaction, then realizing half-way through that I seemed lost for words. She softened hers: "At least 200 times. She stopped counting. And he's still sending them. Maybe it doesn't mean anything; he could be scaring her, but Mariam's taking it pretty seriously, and I am, and... I think you should, too, 'cause she's your friend."

"He did this after she told my parents?"

"It was the same night. But you know, it doesn't _really matter_. He's been saying some pretty mean stuff about her for a while now, and he's been acting like she doesn't deserve to be friends with you. And he's told her this – in person. On Sunday night. After you left. He's made visits to both of us as if we need to be intimidated into doing what he wants."

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"He's been threatening me," she answered, and her voice was no longer the steady and sure thing I knew it to be. "I don't want to talk about that right now, and it's not the point, but he's been weird with me from the start. He acted like it was a game, you know, but then he started telling me to report to him, and I went along with it, until it seemed pretty bizarre that he would want to know exactly what you said about him every time we talked, want to compare notes and argue with me about what you meant. He- he wants to manipulate you. He wanted me to help him do it. And I'm sorry to say that I've told him some things that he should've never known before I realized."

"What do you mean he's been threatening you?" I pressed, but she overrode me completely.

"I'm actually the one who told Mariam she should tell your parents, Lily."

"What? Wait a minute-"

"She asked me about it, and we had to think about it for a while... She didn't want to do it because she was scared, so I was actually going to do it, so I was surprised to find out she did it herself..."

I sunk back on my bed. She crossed her arms again and looked away from me when she saw that I was trying to clear my tears without being noticed. My legs were beginning to twitch again. "I was trying to help you without being obvious, and so was she... He picked up on it right away. It wasn't working. We had to do something, Lily."

"I'm grounded, you know," I could only quaver. "I'm just trying to make this go away." Giry dropped to my side and leaned into my peripheral.

"Don't you want to be protected?" She asked, so sincerely I suddenly felt like I was having an out-of-body experience again, watching the life of someone else, someone who needed an escape from a truly cold-blooded aggressor. That wasn't this. That would never be this. "If I start to get these messages, I really don't care, Lily. Your parents want to protect you, and so do I. And I want to protect Mariam. So I'm telling you the truth and taking your side. I've always been on your side."

I wasn't facing her, but I knew that she had penetrated every protective shield, and trying to explain away anything she had said was impossible. I could have felt like she was insulting him, but I knew she had gripped hold of the truth like I had always wanted someone to do on their own. "If you say he did any of that, I-I believe you. _And I'm sorry..._" I tried to say it, but there were steps outside the door. "It's been ten minutes, probabl-" I began, but Giry wrapped her arms around me. My first instinct was nearly to nudge her away, because nobody hugged me, no one besides Erik, and I was confused why she did it. She had a much different embrace from his. There were no long, black, hooking limbs, but soft pale arms, and a tight almost motherly grip.

"Don't ever be sorry for him," she said. "We have to stay together right now."

I rested my head on her shoulder because I didn't know what else to do. She had stunned me, with information, with compassion... and yet I still questioned my true allegiance to either side.

* * *

**Author's Final (?) Note:  
****Hello. I wish things could wrap up better here, but there's not much I can do about that. I tried to coerce you into reviewing so we could stay in touch while I posted, it didn't work, so I stopped posting the new chapters I was/am writing. Then no one anywhere else responded to me, either. I figured as long as I'm in the Writer's Black Hole, I'll bring all my sites up to date, without caring about feedback, and make the announcement that only my closer friends will be reading from here until the end. After I drastically revise (using their help), I'll pursue publication, with news of all that posted at the website, FB page, and writing journal.  
**

**These chapters will stay up and I'll be contactable, but if you desire to read to the end (CH48-55), get yourself a livejournal account and contact me so I can send you a friend request. However, if you want to be involved with the final chapters, you have to be there to give me feedback to use towards the second draft, so anyone who just lurks won't be privy to them for long.  
**

**Anything else to say? I wish the relationships I've had here had lasted instead of drifted away. I'm sorry that because of my long hiatuses I lost a consistent readership who felt comfortable reviewing. Even still, I put my heart out there with this story and was lucky to receive encouragement, so thank you, everyone, for six years' worth of that. I connected with some awesome people whom I hope come out of the cracks again.**


	48. Review Answers

**Lola** (guest):

I'm extremely surprised that it would draw you in considering how poorly it was written in the beginning and for a while after that, so thanks for sticking through that stuff. I'm sorry that you weren't able to enjoy the last chapters, especially since for me they were exciting to write and at the heart of the conflict. I guess what I would say to you is that if you're feeling uncomfortable, for me that is a success, because the situation is supposed to be disturbing, and I wasn't confident whether or not I was capable of depicting or narrating the kind of confusion, danger, and entanglement in a cult mindset that I imagined for this part. I could have blown it and made it seem like everyone was overreacting. In that regard, I hope you don't mind if I take your review as positive. If I hit a truly bad cord with you, as in you cannot appreciate that it's disturbing at all, then I only hope that, for those who feel similarly to you but stick with the story till the end, Lily is redeemed and freed from this situation enough to give readers peace. However, knowing the exact sentiment of the last scene, as only the author can as of yet!, I can't promise complete redemption.

* * *

**inujisan: **;)

Yeah, I agree. lol Thanks for reviewing, Inuji!

* * *

**L'Archange:**

I'm sorry to hear that you were having a problem at work, but I'm glad you were able to get yourself out of that situation. Though it wasn't a crisis, I had a bad boss once, so those arent empty words.

I wasn't expecting that Lily would parallel Christine very much, but I'm happy to hear that. I always just focused on how Leroux Erik and "Erik" corresponded, and when it came to Lily I just worried how she as herself would react to that. Even though I appreciate and respect Christine as a character (I'm not one of those people who thinks she's a bimbo), her personality has been hard for me to grasp as something clear and distinct, so I just picture a dreamy teenager, I guess, dreamy because she has a hole to fill.

Anyway, thank you for writing to me. I hope that you keep in touch with me, too. I already posted CH48 at my journal, so if you can't get your password on here, and don't want to make an account at Livejournal, we can email each other and I can copy-pasta. I'm already doing that for someone else.

* * *

**Vesta Dragon: **

Oh no, I was not thinking of you when I said no one was responding! You were reviewing every single time the last time I was here, really fast, and I looked forward to it. It's really been thoughtful of you to let me know how you're feeling as often as you have, and it's a relief to hear that you understand why I got frustrated. Begging unfortunately wouldn't change my decision. I never made it to be vindictive to my readers or anything - I truly had decided, years ago, not to post the whole thing on a public site. While I find it hard to believe that someone would want to steal the story, I didn't want to be a completely idiotic author and make it available for possible theft to people I can't even keep track of. Most authors who want to publish don't post online at all.

Anyway, Livejournal is cake, and once you're registered you don't even have to use the site besides to log in. And I do believe if you were there that you would write to me just as you have here. We'd also have a much easier platform in which to get to know each other, so there's always that. :) And I just told L'Archange that I can email you updates, too, so let me know how we can make this work!

Thank you for everything!

* * *

**For further discussion, please send me a pm. I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to use the post feature to have conversations to my readers, but I wanted a quick way to respond to all of you. ;) -J**


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